


see u in hell

by Mystrana, xansayshi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Steve is defrosted but the events of the avengers never happened, Asexual Bucky Barnes, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Pre-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-05 15:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 50,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16369865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystrana/pseuds/Mystrana, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xansayshi/pseuds/xansayshi
Summary: "That was the best first date I've been on in a long time," Steve says.Bucky frowns at Steve. "Which date are you talking about?""What do you mean 'which date?' I'm talking about this date." Steve raises his eyebrows like what he's saying should be obvious. He waves his arm, gesturing between them. "The date we just went one."Date??-After a misunderstood text, Bucky finds himself on a date-he-didn't-know-was-a-date with Steve. But Bucky doesn't date. Ever.With a little help from his friends Bucky works through some things and gets himself a boyfriend...and maybe a little more than he bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A collaboration with the lovely Mystrana for the 2018 Captain America Big Bang!

 

It's 10pm on a Tuesday, and Bucky is in line at the grocery store, picking up some ice cream because he’s had that sort of day when he gets the text. When he sees who it's from, he perks up a bit. Steve has a way of making him feel better whenever he has a shitty day and he could really use a friendly distraction. 

_see u in hell_

_Um...what?_ Frowning, he waits for a second text, maybe an explanation, and when none is forthcoming, Bucky grabs a Three Musketeers bar and throws it on the conveyor belt. He’s grumpy and not in the mood for whatever fuckery Steve is texting him about. He pays for his mood food and leaves.

-

Bucky drives home, one hand on the steering wheel and using the other to cram his candy bar into his mouth, throwing the wrapper carelessly onto the floor of his passenger seat. He’ll clean it out eventually. Probably. And in the meantime, it’s keeping the fast food wrappers and empty Starbucks cups company.

His phone buzzes, and he glances at where it was perched in its stand on his dashboard, mostly out of habit than any real inclination to answer whatever notification had popped up. He’s driving; he’s not stupid.

It’s just an email, most likely spam advertising a free pizza or busty singles in his area. He’s a little disappointed that it wasn’t Steve texting a follow up to that frankly very rude text he’d gotten earlier. Who just sends another person, their best friend no less, a text that says _see u in hell_ with no explanation?

He turns the volume up and tries not to think about it anymore.

-

It's just a stupid text.

He knows that he’s being dramatic and that getting worked up is not going to bring him any closer to an actual resolution. He _knows_ this yet he can’t stop thinking about that stupid text from Steve.

He’s sitting on his couch, eating strawberry cheesecake Ben and Jerry’s right out of the carton, the Netflix menu staring at him from his television screen. The original plan had been to eat his ice cream while watching Planet Earth or maybe that space documentary series, something calm and relaxing, but he’s having a hard time deciding which is why he only got as far as the menu screen. His brain just needs to calm down enough for him to pick something but every time he tries, he sees his phone out of the corner of his eye and sets him off again.

Forty minutes later, Bucky’s TV has turned itself off due to inactivity and he’s still upset about that text. He’s thinking himself in circles because he doesn’t really have a reason to be angry or upset or whatever emotion he’s feeling right now. His thought process is this:

_What the hell. Why would Steve send this to me? I didn’t do anything._

_Oh no, what if I did I do something? I can’t think of anything that I’ve done recently to piss him off. No, I’d know if Steve was really mad at me, he’s not exactly shy when he’s pissed off._

_I would know, right? Of course, I’d know, c’mon Bucko, get it together. Okay, so he can’t be mad at me; there’s just no reason for it, so maybe it's a joke? But like, where’s the context. You can’t just send that to someone with no follow up and expect it to be funny. Why would that be funny anyway? Like oh haha I’m just making fun of you for no reason? That's real fucked up, Steve. What the hell is wrong with you; that was a real jackass thing to do, you dick._

_But Steve wouldn’t do that, he’s not mean like that. But why else would I get this text? Maybe it wasn’t meant for me? But still, why would Steve send this text to anyone?? What the fuck. I’m so confused._

_I don’t even care anymore._  

But he does care. And he’s grumpy about it.

A normal person would have just ignored it, or even asked for clarification. But not Bucky. He’s been in a mental funk all day, and he’s wasted far too much time over this dumbass text message so he does the only thing that comes to mind. He decides to be a smartass and texts Steve back the most absurd thing he can think of.

**Uh…**

**Are you asking me on a date?**

And since he already is acting like a little shit about it, he doesn’t stop there.

**I mean, it's a little aggressive but w/e I accept.**

Smirking a little to himself, Bucky is about to lock his phone when he sees those three little dots pop up. Steve’s typing. Bucky ignores the way his heart starts to speed up, a little anxious at Steve’s possible response. But there is no response. The dots disappear. Steve doesn’t text back.

Rolling his eyes, Bucky throws the phone to the opposite end of the couch and finally hits play on Netflix.

-

He must have fallen asleep. His neck is stiff from leaning against the arm of the couch, and he makes a mental note to avoid falling asleep here ever again. Bucky groans as he attempts to remove himself from where he has sunk between the couch cushions. The last thing he can remember is watching some show about black holes and then...nothing. His ice cream is still on the table, the remains have long since melted into soup. He’s not that upset about it; there wasn’t much left anyway.

He finds the remote tangled up in his blankets and turns off the TV, watching Netflix’s “are you still watching?” message disappear. He leaves the melted ice cream for tomorrow Bucky to deal with, yawning as he finds his phone on the floor under the coffee table. He probably kicked it off the couch while he slept. The screen comes to life as he picks it up. He instantly regrets it as the bright light burns his eyes. Squinting, he checks the time. It's 4:17 in the morning. His phone is at 14 percent battery.

There’s also a text from Steve.

Bucky waits until he’s finally in bed, with his phone charging to look at the text message.

_Saturday. 7pm._

-

Bucky wakes up on Wednesday, grabbing his phone like he does every morning to check emails and waste time on social media. He unlocks his phone and his message thread with Steve still up on the screen. He rereads their conversation, _mostly_ over his irrational feelings about the whole thing. 

His heart rate picks up just a little rereading Steve’s last text. It had been sent only seven minutes after Bucky’s, but by that time his phone had already been sacrificed to the couch. He shakes his head, gently scolding himself for being so ridiculous. _Ugh, it's not even that funny. What was I thinking? I really gotta get my shit together._ And of course Steve would respond with something equally as absurd. _Touche, Rogers._

By the time Bucky has showered, dressed, and eaten a healthy breakfast of a single slice of toast (he really needs to go to the store) and an apple, the whole text debacle has been pushed to the back of his mind. Where it stays. Until Saturday.

-

Saturday evening rolls around, and Bucky is lounging on his couch, doing nothing in particular when there’s a knock at his door. Bucky squints suspiciously at his door. He didn’t order food, and honestly other than that, there’s no reason that anyone should be at his door.

He looks at his phone. If any of his friends come over (they don’t really ask for permission, they just show up), they usually send a warning text. Steve’s texts are, more often than not, simply _open the door_. But there are no missed texts. Bucky’s debating on what to do (torn between answering the door and possibly getting murdered or just ignoring it and hoping that the would-be murderer goes away) when there's another knock, this time accompanied by a familiar voice. 

“Bucky! Open the door. I know you’re in there.”

He rolls off the couch, although not fast enough as the pounding on his door continues. 

“Hold your horses, jeez. I’m coming, just wait,” Bucky calls.

Opening the door, Bucky finds Steve. Looking quite nice, actually.

He’s wearing what Bucky privately refers to as Steve’s “hot ass” pants because he’s seen Steve check out his own ass while wearing them. More than once. Steve’s also wearing a nice button up shirt, in direct contrast to Bucky’s own wrinkled, threadbare tank. His hair looks slightly damp like he’d taken a shower just before leaving, and there’s a faint smell of fabric softener in the air.

“Where are you going all dressed up and fancy?” Bucky asks, eyebrow quirked as he steps aside to let Steve in.

Steve rolls his eyes at him. “Okay, first of all, these are not fancy clothes,” he says, gesturing at himself. 

Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but Steve holds up a hand to silence him.

“And two,” he continues, giving Bucky a once over, “ _we_ are both going out, so go get dressed.”

Bucky about to argue but Steve is looking at him expectantly. Bucky puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Gimme 15 minutes.”

Looking weirdly pleased with himself, Steve settles on the couch as Bucky heads towards his bedroom to put on some fresher clothes.

Bucky feels like he should be questioning why Steve just decided that they were going out and showed up without even a warning text, but there’s a part of Bucky that knows he should get out of the house instead of lounging around doing nothing. He doesn’t go out often because crowds really aren’t his thing, and any place that involves lots of loud, obnoxious people is not his scene. Which are most places. So he tends to stay in a lot, to the mild disappointment of his friends. When plans are made to go out on the town, Bucky usually gets an invite, but he rarely takes them up on the offer.

He’d much rather have a small get together inside than have to go out somewhere. He’s also not great at talking to new people. Small talk is tedious and banal and forced, and Bucky hates it. If he clicks with someone it's not so bad. Those conversations have a way of flowing organically, but that doesn’t happen often. Sometimes, he wishes he could just let go and actually enjoy going out for once. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t put up a fight when Steve suggests it. He knows that if they go out, and he’s really not feeling it, Steve won’t force him to stay.

He shucks off his shirt and reaches for his nicer pair of jeans. If Steve’s wearing his hot pants, then Bucky might as well put his on too. Rummaging around for a clean shirt to put on, he calls out to Steve through his open bedroom door, “Where are we even going, anyway?”

“Somewhere a coworker recommended to me.” Steve calls back. “They’re supposed to have cool bands playing on the weekends.”

Bucky puts on a fresh t-shirt and looks over at his favorite hoodie hanging on the door. It’s soft, comfortable, and so old that he’s lucky it not yet falling apart. While Bucky would love to be as comfortable as possible if he’s going out, he’s got a feeling that Steve would not approve. Instead, he grabs an appropriate going out jacket which, while not nearly as comfortable, makes him look damn good.

“Almost done!” Bucky says, crossing the hall to the bathroom. He brushes his teeth and gives himself a once-over in the mirror. His hair is getting long. He hadn’t intentionally meant to grow his hair out but he’d just kept putting off getting it cut and now he kinda likes it long. He contemplates putting it up but instead combs his fingers through it a few times, before deeming it acceptable. Going back into his room, Bucky grabs his phone, keys, and wallet and walks back out into the living room. Steve is still sitting on the couch, frowning slightly at his phone, but as soon as he notices that Bucky is dressed, he shoves his phone back into his pocket and stands.

He smiles brightly at Bucky. “Ready to go?”

Bucky gestures to his front door. “After you. I still don’t know where we’re going.”

-

They end up at a little restaurant called Howlers. Bucky actually walks right past it because from the outside it doesn’t even look like a restaurant. The storefront looks more like the entrance to a hidden apartment than a place to eat. The door is glass with the word Howlers stenciled on in blocky white letters, and only on the black awning, written in the same font as the front door, are the words _restaurant + bar._

They go inside and are pleased to see that it is much bigger on the inside than it had looked, although long and narrow. There are exposed Edison bulbs hanging from the ceiling, a bar with some rather uncomfortable looking barstools and a low stage in the back of the restaurant, already set up with equipment. Despite the smell of various foods, there seems to be an underlying scent of pine.

Bucky raises an eyebrow at Steve. This particular establishment seems much more hipster than the ones they usually frequent.

Steve shrugs his shoulders in response as if to say _don’t blame me._ Out loud he says, “Maybe the band will be good.”

They seat themselves at a table sort of in the middle, close enough to get a good view of the band, but close enough to the door to make their escape if necessary. A woman dressed in all black drops off their menus and rattles off a list of fancy drink options. Bucky doesn’t really drink alcohol, but the waitress suggests a lemonade topped with fresh fruit, and he figures _I’m already out; might as well make it worth it._ Steve gets a water. Steve makes a comment about Bucky’s sugar intake and Bucky just tells him to “shut up and look at your menu _._ ”

The menu is _varied,_  to say the least. It has a whole page dedicated to artisan salads. Bucky’s eyes are initially drawn to the section on personal pizzas until he actually reads it and sees that these pizzas are topped with things like kale and gorgonzola, figs and goat cheese. There’s one pizza that doesn’t even look like it has any cheese on it -- the picture resembles a salad on top of a big disc of bread. He flips through the remaining menu and finds that it is seriously lacking in his two other primary food groups: burgers and fries.

He puts down his menu. Across from him, Steve seems to be intently studying the menu.

“Steve.” He waits until Steve looks up at him. “What kind of weird hipster nightmare have you brought me to?”

Steve looks back at his menu for just a moment before it joins Bucky’s on the table. He looks just as confused as Bucky feels. “I honestly don’t know. One of my coworkers was raving about it the other week and so I figured we could give it a try, but I had no idea it was gonna be like this.” Steve shakes his head as he says, “Now that I think about it, I should have known because Bailey always brings in things like quinoa rice bowls and salads with beets in them for lunch. And she posts pics of her food on Facebook.”

“Oh my god, Steve. Wait, why are you friends with her on Facebook?” Bucky laughs. “What is she, your work wife?”

“She sent me a friend request.” Steve shrugs as if there wasn’t an ignore button on a friend request. “I’ll probably delete her if either of us ever leaves.” He picks up his menu again, peeking over the top as he says, “And don’t be so heteronormative, Buck. What if I had a work husband?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, knowing that Steve is just being contrary. “Then I’m sure you’d be very happy with them,” he says, deliberately using the gender-neutral pronoun. “Now enough about your work spouse. We have bigger fish to fry; namely-” he pauses for dramatic effect, “-what the hell are we gonna eat at this place!?”

Their waitress chooses just then to return to take their meal orders. Bucky starts to open his mouth to tell her they need a little bit more time, but before anything comes out, Steve’s ordering for them.

“A shareable size order of the nachos and mozzarella sticks please.”

The waitress gives a curt nod and walks away. “Nachos?” Bucky immediately starts flipping through the menu. “There was regular food on here? Where?? Why didn’t I see it?” 

Reaching across the table Steve flips his menu around and points. “It was on the back, right here.” Beneath his finger right next to the drinks menu, is a section called “Familiar Favorites.”

Bucky scoffs. “Familiar Favorites? They should be standards, right in the front.”

The sound of someone tapping on the microphone has both Steve and Bucky turning and angling their bodies towards the stage. Where before there had only been equipment, the stage was now full of people doing last minute adjustments. There was a piano set off to one side, a couple of tall microphone stands for back-up singers, and what seemed like an awful lot of brass instruments.

A woman wearing a flapper dress a la the roaring twenties stands at the mic. “Before we begin, I’d like to thank everyone for coming out tonight and I’d like to ask everyone to give a big thank you to our welcoming hosts Howler’s for making this our favorite place to play!”

There are cheers and shout-outs from the audience as the woman talks; clearly, the group on stage has played here before and seems to have built up some fans. The crowd settles down, and the woman glances behind her, getting thumbs up and head nods from members of the group.

Turning back to the audience, she says, “It looks like we’re just about ready to go up here so it looks like it's time for me to quit my yakking. We are Vintage Singles and we hope you enjoy the show!”

The band starts to play something jazzy and upbeat.

Bucky snorts and turns to Steve. “Vintage Singles? Sounds like a dating app for old folks.” 

Steve tries not to laugh. “Don’t make fun of them, Buck. You never know, they could be good!”

Their waitress arrives and the conversation is put on pause in favor of food.

“These nachos are pretty good,” Steve remarks. “For a hipster place, at least.”

Bucky gives him a look because he still thinks that this place is a little too much for his taste. “Whatever, you can’t really mess up nachos.”

Steve laughs and nods in agreement. “Okay, I’ll give you that.” He looks like he’s about to say something else when he turns around, listening intently to the band playing on stage. The music has shifted from jazzy to more like swing, and the singer on stage is wearing one of those dresses that fans out when she twirls around. “Isn’t this that song that Sam really likes? The one he’s been playing all the time?”

Bucky looks skeptical because Sam usually has pretty good taste in music, and while he’s got some oldies on his playlist, Bucky doesn’t really think he’s got any music from the 40’s. He’s about to say as much to Steve when he catches some of the words to the song. They’re definitely the same lyrics to the song that’s been playing nonstop on the radio _and_ every time Sam is in charge of the music. Bucky listens a little more, and he can hear the original melody of the song but it's been arranged to fit the vintage theme of the group onstage.

“I think it is!” Bucky says. “This cover is awesome though, and way less annoying than the original one.”

“I gotta show this to Sam.” Pulling out his phone, Steve records a short video and sends it to Sam. “And I honestly don’t think that the song is that annoying. It's just that Sam’s been listening to it for two months straight.”

“Either way, I like this version better,” Bucky says.

As the band’s set goes on, it becomes clear that all of their songs are covers of popular songs that have been redone in a different style. The musical styles range from the 20’s all the way through to 50’s. Once he starts to pay attention, Bucky recognizes most of the songs that they play and is more than a little entranced by the way they twist the modern songs into big band numbers or turn a pop song into a sultry ballad.

Enjoying the performance, they wait until the band has finished their set before they head out. Bucky gets up to use the restroom, and when he comes out, Steve is waiting, ready to go.

“Okay, let’s get the check and get out of here before I trip on a wayward mason jar.”

“I already paid.” Steve holds out Bucky’s coat.

Bucky takes it, brows raised in surprise. “You paid for everything? Steve, I had three of those fancy lemonades. That alone is like 12 dollars.”

Steve just shrugs and says, “Don’t worry about it.”

Bucky starts to object again, but Steve silences him with a gentle hand on his arm. “Bucky,” he says seriously. “I got it.”

Steve’s got a weird look on his face, and so instead of protesting, which is what he wants to do, Bucky just says, “Thanks, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes soften as he smiles. “Anytime. You ready to go?”

“Yep.” Bucky puts his jacket on and follows Steve out the door.

 -

The night air still has a lingering warmth from the day as they walk home, choosing to enjoy the weather instead of spending the money to get a ride.

Waiting at a corner for the traffic to stop so they can cross, Steve pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Oh! I almost forgot. Here.” He hands the paper over to Bucky.

“Thanks, Steve!” Bucky takes it, but it’s too dark outside to read it. He squints at it anyway. “What is it?”

The street light has changed, and Steve nudges Bucky to cross as he says, “I grabbed it while you were in the bathroom. It’s a flyer for the band. I noticed you bobbing your head to the music a few times and thought maybe you’d like to look into them later.”

Bucky looks to the paper in his hand. He still can’t see it, but he can’t help the smile that crosses his face. He folds the paper and carefully places it in his pocket for safekeeping. “Thanks, Steve,” he murmurs softly. The warmth spreading through him has nothing to do with the weather.

They continue walking, maneuvering themselves through the throngs of people that are out and about.

“Ugh. Why are there so many people?” Bucky whines, as he tries to move out of the way of a large group, but instead ends up going right through them. He pushes his way free. “They should just go home.”

“Bucky, it's Saturday night. Of course, there are people out,” Steve says. “We’re out.”

“That’s true,” Bucky agrees. “But we’re going home. Like these people should be.”

He gets caught in that awkward side shuffle with a person who moved the same direction as he did and has to jog to catch up.

“Let’s get pizza,” Bucky says, after a moment.

Steve looks at him incredulously. “It’s 10pm. And I thought you wanted to go home?”

“No,” Bucky corrects. “I said that everyone else should go home so I could have space to walk. And I don’t care what time it is. I’m hungry.”

“Bucky, we just ate.”

“Okay, first of all, those were appetizers—that we split.” Bucky points an accusatory finger at Steve. “Don’t you dare tell me that three mozzarella sticks and half a plate of nachos was enough to satisfy you. And second of all, we only had appetizers because that was the only thing that was edible on that bougie hipster menu.”

Steve doesn’t immediately answer, so Bucky nudges him as they walk, pushing him off balance. Steve almost collides with another person on the street. He gets out a rushed, “I’m so sorry!” before turning back to Bucky, who is trying and failing not to laugh.

Laughing, Steve says, “Oh my god. Okay fine, we can get pizza. Just stop trying to make me run into strangers.”

There’s a pizza joint on the way home, not a favorite spot, but one decent enough to satisfy the last minute late night craving. It’s well lit inside, with standard tables and bench seating that look like they have been folded from one giant slab of hard plastic and made to look like fake wood. There is an older man with an apron tossed on the table in front of him sitting off to the side reading a magazine, presumably on a break and a younger girl working behind the counter.

The place is practically empty aside from the two employees and a group of young women seated in the booth in the back corner. Steve and Bucky order an extra large pie: half pepperoni, half Hawaiian, which sparks a well worn debate on the validity of pineapple as a pizza topping.

“It’s just not right,” Steve shakes his head, grimacing at the idea of eating pizza with pineapple, of all things.

Bucky rolls his eyes, rebuttal already primed and ready to go. “Steve,” Bucky says, very seriously. “You can’t pass judgment like that when you haven’t even tried it! If you try it and you genuinely hate it, then I’ll let it go, but you refuse to even try, which honestly is a little ridiculous.”

A mumbled “You’re a little ridiculous,” is Steve’s only reply.

Their pizza arrives just as Steve is standing to use the restroom. He narrows his eyes at Bucky. “Don’t eat any of my pizza while I’m gone.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Well, I wasn’t planning on it, but now that you mention it…” His hand slowly inches towards Steve’s half of the pizza. Steve glares at him, and Bucky raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I won’t eat your pizza.”

Steve just looks at him warily before turning and heading to the bathroom. Bucky is debating whether or not to just take a tiny bite out of one of Steve’s pizza slices, just to be contrary, when he hears them.

“Oh my god, did you see his ass?”

“I’d sure like to get my hands on a slice of that pie.”

“Oh my god, Laurie, you can’t just say that!”

“He is so hot, how is he even real?”

The group of women a few booths down clearly noticed Steve on his way to the restroom. From his seat in the booth, Bucky can see a few of them turn to look at him as they gush over Steve, giggling and shushing one another, but thankfully no one says anything about him. Or if they do, they do it’s low enough that he can’t hear it.

It’s amusing to watch them gossip about Steve, but Bucky is glad that they weren’t too focused on him. He’d always been a little uncomfortable with the idea of people talking about him based on nothing but his looks. He knows that it’s how a lot of people meet, but he still feels there’s something insincere about approaching someone just because you thought they were attractive.

Bucky looks up from his phone when he hears more whispers and hushed giggles from the women in the corner, and sure enough, Steve is walking back to their table. He can also see one of the women leering, so Bucky stares at her while she stares at Steve. She must sense his eyes on her because she tears her gaze away from Steve’s backside to glance at Bucky before turning back to her friends.

“Wow, you really didn’t eat any of my pizza.” Steve sits down and grabs a slice.

“Not gonna lie, I contemplated taking the first bite of each slice so that there would be a hole in the middle when you came back,” Bucky says.

Steve bursts out laughing, trying to cover his mouth and his half-chewed pizza. He manages to swallow that bite before he says, “Well, thank you for exercising some self-restraint. You’ve got more than they do.” He jerks his head back, indicating the table full of women behind him.

“You heard them?”

Steve nods. “The walls are thin and I’m pretty sure the door to the bathroom was hollow. Also, they weren’t being subtle.”

“Yeah, well. You can’t really blame them when you’re wearing your hot ass pants.”

Steve puts down his pizza. “I’m sorry. My what?”

“Hot ass pants.” Bucky points a finger at Steve. “Those are the pants you wear when you wanna make sure you look good. I have seen you checking out your own ass in those pants.”

Steve looks scandalized. “I have not!”

“Yes, you have!” Bucky retorts. “I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. Anyway, if you can’t resist you in those pants, how do you expect them to?” He reaches for another slice of pizza. “I bet if you went up to them right now you’d get at least one of their numbers.”

There’s no response, and Bucky looks up from his pizza to find Steve looking at him. Bucky wipes nervously at his face; maybe he’s got sauce all over himself. His hands come away clean and Steve is still staring.

“Uhh… Steve? You okay?”

“Bucky, I’m not gonna ask for someone else's number when I’m here _with you_.”

 _Um, okay?_ “I’m just saying that you could probably get a hot date wearing your hot pants,” Bucky says, the joke falling flat as a board between them.

But Steve doesn’t stop looking at Bucky. “I don’t want any of their phone numbers.” He sounds like he’s explaining something very obvious that Bucky should already know.

Shifting in his seat under Steve’s gaze, Bucky picks at the toppings on his pizza. _Why is Steve being so weird about this?_ Bucky wonders. _Maybe he’s self-conscious about his flirting skills and doesn’t want me to witness it? Maybe I should just drop it. I wouldn’t like it if someone pressured me like this._ “Okay, sorry. No numbers. Got it.”

Steve doesn’t say anything after that, but he finally lowers his gaze from Bucky’s face and takes a sip of his water. Things still feel weirdly tense. Bucky doesn’t like it. They stew in it for another minute or two before Bucky can’t take it anymore. He takes a pineapple from his pizza and tosses it at Steve. It hits him in the chest, off-center, then plops onto his plate. He looks first at the pineapple, then up at Bucky as he raises his eyebrows. _Really?_

“Oh wow, Steve. Look!” Bucky says, in mock surprise. “A pineapple just magically appeared on your pizza. Maybe that’s a sign that you should finally taste it and admit that I was right all along.”

Steve finally cracks a smile. “Not a chance,” he picks up the pineapple and flings it back towards Bucky where it lands with a _plop!_ right in Bucky’s drink. They look at each other, stunned before Bucky breaks and starts laughing. Steve joins in, hand on his chest and head thrown back, laughing loud and bright.

-

They return to Bucky’s apartment, faces flush with exertion. They’d only been about a block and a half away when Steve suddenly clapped Bucky on the back and said, “Race ya home!” before sprinting away, laughing like a loon. Bucky chased after him, shouting about an unfair head start.

Laughing, Bucky flops down on his couch, eyes bright and spirits high. “Oh, man. That was so much fun. Tonight was fun. Even though you took me to that weird hipster restaurant.” He lifts his head and looks over at Steve sitting on the other end of the couch and puts his feet in his lap.

“It wasn’t that bad!” Steve says.

“They served water in mason jars, Steve. They put fruit on pizza.”

“You like fruit on pizza,” Steve responds.

“I like pineapple on pizza.” Bucky counters, and then points an accusatory finger at Steve. “That’s different and you know it.”

Steve grins, eyes closed and head back, loose and relaxed from their night out. He pats the top of Bucky’s feet. They’re both comfortably relaxed on the couch.

“That was the best first date I’ve been on in a long time,” Steve says, after a while.

“Hmm? Which one?”

Still leaning against the back of the couch, Steve’s grin falters. “What?”

“Which date are you talking about?”

Bucky is frowning at Steve. He’s not really sure why Steve started talking about dates, but Bucky sure as hell is confused. He was feeling good, still energized and full of good food, but his good mood is dampened a little. He feels a little awkward and a whole lot lost, like he just walked into the middle of a conversation that had already been going on.

Steve stares at Bucky incredulously.

“What do you mean ‘which date?’” Steve raises his eyebrows like what he’s saying should be obvious. He waves his arm, gesturing between them. “I’m talking about this date. The date we just went on.”

_Date??_

Bucky’s head falls back against the couch with a thunk. All of the sudden, his heart is pounding, blood rushing so fast and so loud he’s amazed that Steve can’t hear it. _This was a date?_ He stares unseeing at the ceiling, replaying the nights events in his head. He tries to think of it objectively, watching the playback in his head as if it were happening to two other people instead of him and Steve. He has to admit that it could seem pretty date-ish.

Objectively.

If they were other people.

_Shit._

But they’re not other people. It’s just him and Steve. They’ve been friends for years; they hang out all the time. Why the hell did Steve think this was a date?

“Why do you think we just went on a date?”

Steve is still staring at him, except now Bucky can see his face getting red and his eyes going wide.

“Why don’t you?!”

At this point, Bucky takes his feet out of Steve’s lap and sits up fully on the couch.

“Steve,” he says seriously. “Why would I think this was a date?” 

“What do you mean why? This was your idea!” Steve's voice is somewhere between frantic and frustrated, and Bucky is still very confused at this whole situation.

“Okay, hold up just a second. I didn’t even know this was supposed to be a date; how could it have possibly been my idea?”

Rubbing his hands over his face, Steve says, “I texted you earlier this week and for some reason you thought I was asking you out, which wasn’t my intention, but then I started thinking about it and so then I did? Kind of? Ask you out.” Steve thinks on it for a moment, then shakes his head and shrugs. “Maybe that wasn’t clear. Either way, I did tell you I was coming.”

This explanation has done nothing to make Bucky understand what is going on. He’s got a bunch of questions floating around in his head and he just picks one, hoping that it will lead to some clarity.

“When did you text me?”

Steve blinks at him, thinking. Then he grabs his phone and starts scrolling through their message thread. They text pretty much every day so he has to scroll a bit before finding the right set of messages.

“Tuesday,” he says. He holds out his phone for Bucky to see.

Bucky takes the phone but doesn’t look at it right away, racking his brain trying to remember what he did on Tuesday, hoping the context will jog his memory.

Tuesday... he’d woken up feeling like he’d gotten no sleep at all, gone to work where he had to endure an annoying coworker for far too long and come home only to find that all his leftovers in the fridge were too old to eat. He’d ended up eating a PB&J because he was tired and didn’t want to cook but was it was unsatisfying and only served to fuel his bad mood. He remembers going to the store for comfort food and…

“Wait. Tuesday.” He looks to Steve for confirmation. “Tuesday?”

Steve nods.

“You told me to go to hell!” He throws the phone back at Steve. “What the fuck, man! Who just texts someone to go to hell!” All of Bucky’s petty rage from the other night comes rushing back.

Now it’s Steve’s turn to look confused.

“Wait, what? I didn’t do that.” He fumbles to retrieve his phone from where it was thrown at him.

“You sure did pal,” Bucky says, “because I spent all night wondering why the fuck you would just up and tell me I was going to hell. Well, not all night. But an absurd amount of time. Like, I know it's true, but who just says something like that unprovoked?”

Steve, having finally found his phone and gotten it unlocked and back to the message screen, says, “I didn’t tell you to go to hell. I said ‘see you in hell.’ It's different.”

Great. First Steve thinks they’re on a date, and now he thinks this is a game.

Bucky glares at him. “Don’t be a smartass, Steven. This is not funny. Whatever the semantics are, it still hurt my feelings.” Crossing his arms, Bucky does not throw himself back into the couch and _definitely_ does not pout.

His words finally seem to get through to Steve because now he’s looking at Bucky, concerned.

“Wait, really? Why would that—didn’t you see the image I sent with it?” He frowns, looking back at his phone. He groans. “Ohhh no.”

“Oh no, _what_ ?” Bucky knows that he sounds petulant, but he’s still riding out his irritation from Tuesday and can’t help it. “You finally realized that it's _rude_ to send mean text messages and hurt people’s feelings?”

Steve rolls his eyes at his dramatics. “Bucky, just shut up for a second."

Bucky scowls but remains silent.

“When I texted you the other day I also sent this image but it didn’t go through, and I guess I didn’t notice.” He holds his phone up to Bucky’s face so that he can see the screen.

Sure enough, there’s an image in the message thread and right next to it is a little circle with a red exclamation point, indicating that the message never sent. Now, faced with what was clearly a technological accident, Bucky feels a little stupid for how he reacted both today and earlier in the week.

To distract him from his embarrassment, he jabs at the phone in Steve’s hand to enlarge the image. It’s a picture of an online post with what looks like a protest picket sign. In big letters are the words WARNING: ETERNAL DAMNATION followed by a list of things that will presumably result in the forewarned proclamation. The list includes among other things: homos (wow, original), feminists, pot smokers, porn watchers, masturbators, and absurdly, dancers, yoga pant wearers, and cookie dough eaters. Underneath the photo, someone has commented and said, “Hell is gonna be lit. Sign me up.”

Bucky makes a face in an attempt to stop himself from smiling. Steve looks at him with his eyebrows raised expectantly and a knowing smirk on his face. The pic is exactly the kind of stupid shit that he loves, and Steve knows it. That’s probably why he sent it in the first place, and now that Bucky sees the other half of the message, it all makes sense. Steve was just sending him a stupid internet meme like they do all the time and what did Bucky do? He completely overreacted and acted like an asshole.

“So you see,” Steve says as he takes his phone out of Bucky’s face, “I didn’t mean to imply that I thought you actually were going to hell. Which is ridiculous anyway, Bucky; why would I say that? I just wanted to send you a funny post.”

Aware that he already has made a fool of himself tonight, Bucky opts to keep his mouth shut. He really should apologize for thinking acting so childish about this whole texting issue, but admitting he was wrong isn’t really one of his fortes. Usually when he messes up, if possible he just pretends it didn’t happen and tries not to think about it ever again. Which is gonna be a little tricky in this instance, since Steve is sitting right next to him with that stupid smug grin on his face.

Bucky sighs in defeat. “Okay, so you didn’t tell me to go to hell. That’s good. Sorry, I thought you were being an asshole.”

Steve pats his leg. “It’s okay, Bucky. I probably should be offended that you thought that I would just tell you to go to hell without any kind of reason behind it, but then again I should have noticed that the image never sent.” Steve’s still smiling when he says, “and besides, I don’t usually insult people before I ask them out.”

Distracted as he was by the texting debacle, Bucky had temporarily forgotten what they had originally been talking about. But Steve’s last comment has washed away all Bucky’s lingering embarrassment and has replaced it with renewed confusion.

“Okay, wait, hold on. So we figured out that you’re not a jerk, but that still doesn’t explain why you think that we went on a date, or how it was apparently my idea?”

Steve just hands him back his phone, still open to their message thread. Understanding dawns as he reads his own (retrospectively, very dumb) messages and Steve’s response.

_{ **are you asking me on a date?** } _

_{Saturday. 7pm }_

Bucky’s eyes go wide. “You forgot, didn’t you?” Steve asks, amused.

It’s not just that Bucky forgot. Because he did. But he also didn’t think there was anything to remember.

Bucky looks back at Steve. “Wait. You were serious?” He says it quietly, tone disbelieving.

Steve frowns a little, but then smiles and says, “Well, yeah. I mean,” he breaks off, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding looking at Bucky. “At first I was confused because I thought you were responding to the meme, which didn’t really make sense, and I was gonna ignore it, but then I kept thinking about if we actually went on a date and so…” He trails off, waiting for Bucky to say something.

In the awkward silence that follows, Steve looks at Bucky only to find him staring, eyes flitting back and forth over Steve’s face.

“So you really meant to ask me out? It wasn’t a joke?” Bucky hasn’t stopped looking at Steve, and he clearly sees his eyes widen at the question.

“What, no? Who does that, asks someone out as a joke? That’s fucking rude.” Steve looks frustrated as he continues, “Why do you all the sudden think I’m some awful person who just tells people to go to hell and asks them out for kicks? Of course I meant to ask you out, although it’s starting to feel like maybe I shouldn’t have?”

Bucky continues to look at Steve, his mind going a million miles a minute. He has no idea how to explain everything to Steve. He knows he should; he’s gonna have to, but where to even start? How does he explain things that he’s only ever said to himself? How can he begin to describe the things that keep him up at night, the decisions he’s made to keep himself safe, even though it hurts? He can hardly admit them to himself most days but to explain it all to Steve? Just the thought is creating an uncomfortable churning in his gut. 

There’s too much to say and it's too much for him to handle right now, but he knows he has to say something. He can’t just sit here, but he can’t find the right words to say. His mouth opens and closes, like a fish gasping for air.

Steve leans forward on the couch head hanging, elbows resting on his knees. He grumbles, “Why would you even send that text if you didn’t want to go on a date?”

“I dunno Steve!” Bucky says, miffed at Steve’s obliviousness to his internal turmoil. “I wasn’t really thinking too hard about it because I was still pissed cause I thought you were being a jerk. I was trying to be witty or something! It was banter! I thought it would be funny, but I guess it backfired.”

“Backfired.” Steve’s voice is ice cold. Bucky’s never heard it this way. “So it was a mistake.”

No. No, no, no, no. That’s not what Bucky means at all. It’s not that he doesn’t want to date Steve, but it's complicated and hard to explain, and now is _definitely_ not the time, but he doesn't want Steve to think it's a _mistake_ and maybe saying some of this out loud might help the situation.

“Wha- no that's not what I meant, I just-” Bucky takes a deep breath. He stands up and starts pacing in front of the couch. “I am having a hard time processing all of this.”

“What is there to process Bucky?” Steve snaps. “I asked you out, we went on a date, and I thought it was going well but apparently not! I’ll give it to you that maybe I should have made sure you were on the same page before we went out, but I don’t understand why this is so hard for you to understand _right now_.”

Steve’s upset. Steve’s upset with _him?_ Bucky feels like the rug has been pulled out from under him. In the past ten minutes he’s experienced a wide range of emotions, and he’s feeling like he needs to reevaluate his whole life, but Steve is the one who gets to be upset? Bucky explodes.

“Because I don’t date! Okay? This isn’t something that tends to happen in my life and so excuse me for not being able to identify tonight as a date!” He throws his hands up in exasperation. “Ugh. I don’t go out, I don’t date. I never really have. So the idea that anyone, especially you, would want to actually date me is a little bit outside of my current reality.” He sits down heavily on the couch. “It’s just...a lot.”

His outburst must have broken through the haze of Steves anger because when Steve speaks again, it's missing the frustrated tone and is instead laced with concern.

“Do you not wanna do this? Because I can go home, and we wouldn’t have to talk about it ever again.” Steve’s voice is soft. He’s giving Bucky an out. He doesn’t even understand why Bucky is upset, but he’s still giving him the option to essentially erase the whole evening.

Bucky doesn’t deserve Steve.

It’s a tempting offer, but Bucky isn’t a fool. He knows himself well enough to know that there’s no way he won’t be thinking about this constantly and ignoring it will only cause more stress later on. Suddenly, he feels exhausted, the weight of the evening settling heavily. Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly.

“I don’t want to pretend that this isn’t happening but I don’t know if- I just-ughhhh...” He trails off in a groan. He turns to Steve, and attempts a half-hearted smile as an apology. He hopes it doesn’t look as strained as it feels.

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “I think I should go home now.”

Bucky’s heart drops at the thought of Steve leaving. He may be having a crisis, but Steve’s presence is forcing him to keep it together. He’s afraid that if Steve leaves, he’ll just fall apart completely.

“But before I go, I want to say something.”

Bucky looks up to find Steve looking right back at him, all traces of his earlier anger gone. He watches Steve take in a breath and unconsciously square his shoulders, sitting up a little bit straighter. Bucky has seen him do this countless times, usually before Steve does something he thinks is Very Important. Mostly Bucky has seen him do it before he’s about to pick a fight with someone. More often than not Bucky thinks he’s being reckless, acting before thinking it through. Steve would say he’s just Doing the Right Thing.

“I can see you’re upset about me thinking that tonight was a date, and I can’t help but feel a little responsible for that.” Bucky just raises his eyebrows at that because this whole mix up was absolutely Steve’s fault. “And so before I go, I just want to make things clear so that there’s no more confusion.” Bucky nods, anxiously chewing his lip.

“I meant to ask you out. Sorry I fucked it up this time.” He reaches hesitantly for Bucky’s hand. When Bucky doesn't protest, he holds Bucky’s hand properly, fingers intertwining. “I wanted to go on a date with you. I still do, if that’s something you’re be interested in?”

Steve looks so hopeful that Bucky almost says yes just to keep Steve happy. But he knows that he needs to think rationally about this, and he can’t do it while Steve is right there waiting for an answer. 

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

Steve’s face falls, just a little, before he pulls himself together and plasters on a small smile. Steve is hurt by his answer, and Bucky hates that he had to be the cause of that hurt, but the guilt and anxiety that he would have if he agreed right away would have been much worse. Right now, Bucky needs to protect himself more than he needs to protect Steve.

“Sure, Bucky.” Steve says quietly. “Take all the time you need.”

He pulls his hand away and rises from the couch. Bucky moves to stand as well, but Steve waves him off. “Don’t worry about it, I can let myself out.”

Bucky doesn’t really know what to do, so he just sits and watches as Steve collects his wallet and keys from the front table and puts his shoes on.

Steve’s almost out the door when he turns back to Bucky who hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch.

“Bucky. It’s okay. Let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

When he wakes the next morning, Bucky spends a long time staring at the ceiling. He checks the date on his phone, groaning when he realizes that last night hadn’t been a crazy fever dream or something. Bucky rubs his eyes until he sees stars. He swears under his breath.

Steve thought they were on a date. Steve wants to date him.

“Fuck.”

Bucky wants to bury himself in his covers and forget about the whole thing. He just wants to go back to sleep, but his unhelpful, traitorous brain just keeps replaying snapshots of the night before. Little moments that last night just seemed normal but now when viewed in the morning light are glaringly obvious date-like behaviors. Steve paying for their food at Howlers. Steve going out of his way to get Bucky the flier for the band. Steve telling Bucky that he didn’t want the phone numbers of those women at the pizza shop... _after Bucky told him that he could._

_“Oh, my god.”_ Bucky bolts up into a sitting position and searches frantically for his phone, getting tangled in the sheets in the process. Phone in hand, Bucky taps out a quick text message, chewing on his fingernails while he waits for a response. Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long.

**SOS. URGENT. HELP ME.**

**_Is this a real emergency or are you just being dramatic?_ **

Bucky rolls his eyes because it is a real emergency and he is _not being dramatic,_ but before he can respond his phone buzzes again with an incoming message.

**_clarification: is this a 911 type situation or a ‘omg my life is over’ type thing?_ **

**_It better be the second one because if I’m the first person you contact when you’ve got a real emergency instead of 911 then you’re screwed i am not a substitute for actual first responders and you should know better_ **

**omg can you just get here please so i can freak out at you in person?**

**_Okay okay im coming_ **

**Door’s open.**

-

Bucky has migrated to the couch, laying on his back hugging one of the cushions, when there’s a knock on his door.

“Yo?”

Bucky doesn’t move. “I told you the door was open,” he calls out. He hears the door open, then close, and follows the sound of footsteps to his kitchen. He rolls his eyes because of course Clint is looking for food.

“I know but I dunno what you’re doing in here,” Clint says. “And you said it was an emergency, so who knows what kind of shit you got yourself into. Maybe you had a hot date in here or something.”

“Uuuuuughhhhh.” Bucky slams the cushion over his face and attempts to say something but all that comes out is indecipherable nonsense, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Huh?” Clint pops his head out from where he’d been scavenging in Bucky’s fridge. “You know I can’t hear too well, you gotta speak up, pal.”

Instead of removing the cushion from his face, Bucky just decides to be louder.

“I SAID ‘Steve thought he was on a hot date last night.’”

“Wait, what? Steve had a hot date? With who?”

Clint makes his way over to Bucky, picking his feet up and then plopping down on the couch underneath, reminding Bucky of how he had been in almost this exact position last night, sans cushion. He’d been so comfortable last night on the couch with Steve before the date-bomb had been dropped. Bucky wonders how the rest of the evening might have gone, with Steve still thinking it was a date.

Flushed and relaxed, maybe Steve would have started idly rubbing Bucky’s feet, slowly making his way towards Bucky’s leg. Maybe he would have slid his hand under the pant leg, so that his hand would be resting on Bucky’s bare calf, just gently touching. Perhaps they would have started talking about something, conversation becoming more animated, and Bucky would have flipped himself around so that his head was in Steve’s lap. Would Steve’s hand have made its way into Bucky’s hair? Or maybe the conversation would slow. There would be a stillness in the air, both reluctant to break it. Maybe Bucky would have looked up at Steve and Steve would have been looking down at him and then Steve would slowly start to lean over...

“Jeez, bro. Can’t you put some socks on?” Clint whines, bringing Bucky back to the present moment and out of his daydreaming. Bucky can imagine him gesturing to his bare feet on his lap. “You know how I feel about feet.”

Bucky’s face is still covered, thank god. He does not feel up to explaining why his cheeks are suddenly hot and flushed. Moving the pillow just enough to speak clearly he says, “I live here and I don’t like socks. Anyway, I didn’t tell you to sit here, Barton.”

“Maybe you should have more guest seating in this apartment, instead of just one couch and some fold up chairs.”

He’s right and as such, Bucky chooses not to respond.

“Anyway, so what about this hot date Steve went on?” Clint says. “Does it have anything to do with this major emergency I’ve been called here for?”

Bucky momentarily wishes that he’d never texted Clint so that he wouldn’t have to talk about this. But he knows that he’d never talk about it, and he’d never give Steve an answer and then it would be far too late to explain, and he’d probably have to move far, far away to make sure he never accidentally ran into Steve.

Clint nudges Bucky’s legs and Bucky sighs. Might as well get it over with.

Pulling the cushion fully off of his face Bucky says, “Steve thought he was on a hot date last night. With me.”

Clint raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh?”

Bucky goes on to relay to Clint the events of the night before, even pulling out his phone to show him the text messages.

“And so even though last night was a total disaster he still wants to go out with me.”

“So you’re gonna finally give yourself a chance to be happy and go out with Steve for real, right?”

“What?” Bucky looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “Clint, you know why I can’t do that.”

“No, I know why _you think_ you can’t do that.” Clint says, gesturing pointedly at Bucky. “But I gotta tell ya, I’m not seeing a huge problem here. The way I see it is that you got two options. Option one: you tell Steve no, which will inevitably lead to you isolating yourself to avoid any awkwardness with Steve.”

Bucky actively does not look at Clint because that is exactly what he would do and he does not appreciate being called out like this.

“All because you’re afraid of putting yourself out there because you are so convinced that you don’t deserve love. You reject yourself before Steve even has the chance to, which he won’t by the way, and both of you end up sad and alone.” 

That sounds...less than ideal.

“Or option two: you say yes, go on a real date with Steve, everything goes great and boom: you got yourself a boyfriend.”

Clint’s response is simultaneously exactly what he didn’t want to hear and entirely accurate. There’s a reason the Bucky texted Clint instead of Natasha or Sam. And aside from the fact that Natasha seems to operate on her own schedule and is not the most reliable (Natasha had once stopped responding in the middle of an active text conversation only to immediately pick up the abandoned conversation four days later with a “sorry, got busy”), Clint is both fairly reliable with phone-based communication and a very blunt person.

So while Bucky had known that Clint was going to provide him with a no-nonsense answer to his Steve conundrum, he couldn’t help but be a little put out that Clint didn’t even attempt to commiserate with him before ripping into him.

“There seems to be a lot less thought put into that second option,” Bucky deflects, hoping to put off talking about his feelings just a little longer.

Clint knows what he’s doing and is not having it. He levels Bucky with a look. “Bucky, buddy, pal. I don’t have a lot of experience observing you in a relationship type setting so yeah, that option’s a little sparse. Option one, on the other hand, comes from years of being your friend. I know how you feel about things, and I know how you react to uncomfortable situations. I know you and I know that kinda freaks you out or whatever, but that’s just how it goes.”

Bucky heaves a great sigh as he maneuvers his feet from Clint’s lap so he can sit up properly. “Okay. Let’s say I do agree to this date with Steve, what then?” He looks to Clint expectantly.

Clint shrugs, “What do you mean ‘what then’?”

“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’?” Bucky retorts. “I don’t know how to date someone!”

Clint sighs, then angles his body so he’s facing Bucky properly. “Listen,” he says. “There’s no secret to dating. Nobody knows what they’re doing. Everybody just kind of goes for it hoping that they don’t make a fool of themselves in front of the person they like, or at the very least they hope that the other person likes them enough to ignore the dumb things that they do.”

On some level, Bucky knows that what Clint is telling him is probably true. Clint doesn’t lie to him, and in Buckys twenty-five years of life, he’s finally grasped the whole ‘nobody knows anything, ever’ idea. But he can’t stop thinking about what may happen after the date.

“Okay,” Bucky says, hesitantly. “That may be true, but dating is also a way for people to get sex.”

Clint nods. “And?”

“Ugh, Clint! How am I gonna explain to someone that I may never want to have sex with them?” Bucky cries. “And when do I tell them? I don’t really think it's first date material, but waiting any longer than that would feel like a lie.” He slumps back against the couch. “I don’t think that I can pretend for that long. Not with Steve.”

Clint gives him a dubious look. “Is that what you think? That Steve wants to date you because he wants to have sex with you?” When Bucky says nothing, Clint continues. “You don’t think that maybe he wants to date you because he enjoys your company and likes spending time with you?”

Bucky desperately wants to believe that Steve wants to date him just because it’s him. But he’s not an idiot. He sighs. “I don’t think that he _just_ wants to have sex with me but I think that probably one of the main reasons he wants to go out with me is because he’s attracted to me. And that's the part that I don’t know how to deal with.”

“Well, I think-” Clint is interrupted by a brief knock, then Bucky’s front door swings open to reveal Natasha.

“Hello boys. What are we up to this morning?” She crosses the threshold, then reaches back with her foot to kick the door shut again.

Bucky turns to Clint, who looks equally as surprised at Natasha’s sudden appearance. “Don’t look at me; I didn’t invite her.”

They both turn back to Natasha who has taken her shoes off and is now perched on the edge of the coffee table, fiddling with her phone. “Natasha,” Bucky begins. “Not that I don’t love having you showing up at my place unannounced, but what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for Clint.”

She looks up from her texting and is met with two matching, perplexed faces. She rolls her eyes and gestures to Clint, “Your Snapchat GPS is on. I saw your little emoji person was here and so I just followed you here.”

Brows raised in surprise, Clint says, “You tracked my location here? That’s not creepy at all.”

Natasha shrugs. “It’s not like I personally bugged your phone or anything. It's on Snapchat; it's basically public information. Anybody could find you. You should really turn that off if you don’t want people to be able to find you.”

“Yeah, but Nat, most people don’t go around following people based on their Snapchat location,” Clint responds.

Natasha shrugs again, sliding down onto the floor, leaning back against the table. “You hope that they don’t, but they always could.” She says it casually, as if they weren’t discussing the possibility of being stalked by strangers via social media. “It was just a suggestion. Leave it on, turn it off. It’s your choice.” She stares right at Clint as she speaks and although her words say choice her eyes are clearly saying, _there is a wrong choice here and I will judge you if you make it._

For a long minute neither of them move, staring each other down. Bucky’s eyes dart between them, waiting for one of them to move, blink, something. Clint eventually breaks, slowly pulling out his phone, presumably to turn off his location services and change his privacy settings. Natasha smiles smugly, blinking slow like a cat that just got the cream.

Bucky clears his throat, hoping that this weird game they’re playing is over. Natasha flashes Clint one last cheeky grin before addressing them both. “So, what were you two up to before I so rudely interrupted?”

Bucky opens his mouth to answer before snapping it shut again, suddenly shy. He hadn’t initially planned on discussing this with Natasha, at least not while it’s still fresh and now he was trying his hardest not to stress about it. He loves Natasha, but she can be even more straightforward than Clint. Despite her sometimes abrasive manner, he knows she cares, but he’s feeling fragile and confused right now, and he’s not sure he’s ready to hear her tear into his feelings.

Unfortunately for him, Clint has no such qualms about telling Natasha.

“Nat, tell Bucky that he should go on a date with Steve.” Clint whines. “He’s not listening to me, even though I’m right.”

Grinning, Natasha says, “Oh, you should _definitely_ go on a date with Steve.” Something about the twinkle in her eyes makes him squirm, like she’s plotting something and he’s about to play right into her hands.

He shoots Clint a dirty look for throwing him to the wolves. Well, wolf. “Okay, but Nat-” Bucky starts to protest, but she silences him with a wave of her hand.

“Bucky, listen to me. Whatever dumb reasons that you think are good ones to not go on this date are all going to seem so stupid once you _actually go on a date with Steve._ Besides, I know you like him and he’s totally into you too, even though you think he’s not.” She raises her eyebrows at him, daring him to protest. Bucky keeps his mouth shut, waiting for her to finish before he can get back to voicing his actual, valid concerns.

Taking his silence as a surrender, she smiles and gives a quick nod as if to say _well done, Nat._ She turns back to Clint and says smugly, “Done. That wasn’t so hard. Anything else you need me to do for you?”

“Actually, yeah,” Clint says and starts talking as if Bucky isn’t even there. “I need to know if you ca-”

“Well, _I_ -” Bucky interrupts, loudly and pointedly, “need the both of you to stop acting like this is no big deal and help me!”

They both turn towards him. Natasha looks unimpressed at his little tantrum and says, “Bucky. What exactly is the problem here? You like Steve. Yes?” She waits for an answer. Bucky nods. “Okay, and we all know that Steve likes you.”

Clint nods, “Yeah, especially since he’s the one that asked you out.”

“Wait, what?” Natasha’s head whips around to look at Clint who nods before she swivels back around to face Bucky. “ _Steve already asked you out?”_ She asks, astonished. Bucky nods again, and then gives her the abridged version of the previous nights events to get her up to speed. Natasha waits until he’s finished then says, “So what is the problem? It all seems pretty straightforward to me.”

Bucky doesn't answer right away. Now that Natasha is fully focused on him, he almost wishes she wasn’t here. He always feels more exposed talking to Nat than he does with Clint. Maybe it's because Natasha has always been able to see right through him. She seems to know things about Bucky that even he hasn’t fully figured out and it’s unnerving. With Nat waiting expectantly for a response, all of his protests seem dumb and he can already feel Natasha getting ready to shoot down all of his fears.

Natasha turns to Clint again, and he translates Bucky’s silence in the most unhelpful way possible.

“Bucky is afraid that Steve just wants to use him for his body.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and groans. “Thanks, Clint.”

Nat tilts her head thoughtfully. “Do you think you’ll want to have sex with Steve?”

“I don’t know Nat! That’s the problem!” Bucky hands comb through his hair, making it stick out at odd angles and making him look even more frazzled than he already feels. “I don’t know if I want to have sex with anyone! Some days I think okay, yeah, maybe, if it's with the right person I could be okay and maybe even enjoy it but then other days I am just really put off by the whole idea of it and it feels really crude and messy and just- ugh,” he says, shuddering.

“Bucky.” His mouth shuts with a click and he looks at Nat, breathing hard through his nose. Natasha’s voice is soft and gentle, a departure from her usual teasing tone. “Don’t you think you should probably tell Steve at least some of this?”

“But, you know, maybe in a less rambly kind of way,” Clint chimes in.

Bucky’s heart rate picks up speed at the thought of talking to Steve about this. That is exactly what he’s been trying to avoid. He knows that logically, it would make sense to tell Steve this information. But it makes Bucky’s stomach clench and his anxiety spike when he thinks about having to articulate these things to anyone other than Natasha and Clint. And he hadn’t even planned on telling them. He’d been hanging out with them one day and out of the blue Natasha had asked, “Bucky, are you asexual?” Bucky had just stared, open mouth gaping at her as his brain struggled to function. Eventually, he had regained his ability to speak and they proceeded to have a very awkward but still somewhat reaffirming conversation.

But that was then and that was Nat and Clint, who he’s known for much longer than he’s known Steve. He also doesn’t kind of, maybe, have a crush on them.

Well,” Clint says, “For what it’s worth, I think you should just go for it. You can figure all the sex stuff out later, but you’re never gonna get the chance to talk about it if you don’t give Steve an answer. You gotta put yourself out there, and I know it sounds dumb, dude, but it's true. If it doesn’t work out, I will personally buy you all the ice cream you need and let you listen to Taylor Swift or whatever-”

“Taylor Swift? Ice cream?” Nat laughs. “Isn’t that what teenage girls are supposed to do during a breakup?”

Clint waves her off. “Listen, you can do whatever you want after someone stomps on your fragile little heart. It's not my fault there’s no positive male media about dating and breakups. If things don’t work out and Bucky wants ice cream and TSwift, then I’m not gonna judge him for it.”

Nat nods her head, conceding his point. “Okay, that’s fair.”

“Guys, we’re not even dating yet.” Bucky whines. “Can we please stop talking about our hypothetical breakup?”

Clint has the good graces to look at least a little bit sheepish, but Nat just says, “There won’t even be a future breakup to speculate on if you don’t go out with him in the first place.”

Bucky glares, but there’s no real heat behind it. She’s right; they both are. Bucky needs to just suck it up. Nat stands then reaches out and grabs Clint's hand, pulling him to his feet.

“C’mon Clint. We should go so that Bucky can accept Steve’s date invitation in peace.”

Clint waves as he gets herded out the door and Nat gives Bucky a wink and a “Go get him, tiger,” on her way out.

-

**Hey, Steve. Can we talk?**

No more than three minutes after he sends the text, Bucky’s phone lights up with an incoming call. He takes a deep breath before answering.

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky winces at his own voice, falsely cheerful.

“Hi, Bucky,” Steve says. “I hope—is it okay that I called? I understand if you prefer texting.”

Bucky actually doesn’t mind talking on the phone. He likes being able to hear the other person's voice, to hear when they laugh, to immediately have a sense of how they are in that exact moment. He’d do it more often, but unless it’s a planned call, he worries that he’ll be interrupting something. Texting is less personal, but also more convenient, most of the time.

In this instance though, he would have been okay sticking with texts. But since he already picked up the call he says, “No, it's okay.”

There’s an awkward silence as neither one of them is sure what to say, or who should say it first.

Taking the plunge, Bucky clears his throat to say something, but Steve seems to have to the same idea because one minute neither of them are speaking and the next they are talking over each other.

“So, I-”

“Bucky, I shou-”

They both stop, giving the other a chance to speak. Bucky tries again.

“Um, so about-”

“Bucky?” Steve interrupts.

“Yes?” This has got to be the most painful phone call Bucky has ever been on.

“Can I say something? Before you say whatever it was you were gonna say?”

“Um, sure. Yeah, go ahead.”

He can hear Steve take a deep breath. “Bucky, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about last night. I’ve been thinking it over and it wasn’t fair of me to assume that you wanted to go out with me without your freely given consent and I understand if you feel more comfortable as friends.”

He sounds weirdly formal and Bucky would be willing to bet that Steve had planned and rehearsed what he was going to say.

“It’s okay, Steve. I shouldn’t have freaked out at you like that. I wasn’t really thinking straight.” Bucky chews his lip nervously. “I was hoping, maybe, we could start over?”

“You mean-?” Steve sounds surprised like he was expecting Bucky to tell him off again.

“If the offer is still on the table, I would like to go on a date with you.” The words are unfamiliar on Bucky’s tongue and his heart pounds against his ribcage but there’s no anxiety, only nervous anticipation

“The offer is very much still on the table.” Steve chuckled. “I was half expecting you to never want to talk to me again. I was sure I had screwed everything up royally.”

Bucky laughed. “Steve, I don’t really think there’s anything you can do at this point that would make me never wanna talk to you again. And besides, you’re not the only one that messed up.”

There’s an awkward pause and Bucky can tell that Steve is silently fretting about exactly how much of their bad not-date was his fault.

“Well,” Bucky says, restarting the conversation and hopefully pulling Steve out of his worrying, “now that we’ve established that we both are on board for a date, what are we gonna do?”

“Um…”

“Steve?”

“Uh, well we, uh-”

“You didn’t think that far ahead did you?” Bucky teases. He’s not really sure where all this joking confidence is coming from, considering he was panicking and had to call in reinforcements only a few hours ago, but he’s gonna roll with it.

“How about we just keep this one simple?” Going out last night was fine, but Bucky thought that it was a casual night out. He didn’t know any better. But now? He’s not really sure that he’s ready to be with Steve in a romantic setting _in public._

“Dinner at my place? We can order some food, maybe a movie on the couch?” Bucky suggests.

Steve doesn’t answer immediately and that just kickstarts Bucky’s earlier doubts. _Was that a terrible date suggestion? What makes it a date and not just hanging out like we usually do? Calling it a date? Maybe I should just take it back and-_

“Uh, yeah.” Steve says, finally getting his derailed train of thought back on track. “That actually sounds good. But can it be at my place? I’ll make dinner.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. Steve didn’t reject his date idea and…

“You can cook?” Bucky asks, surprised.

“I can do a lot of things,” Steve says. “You’ll have to wait and see if cooking is one of them.”

Bucky lets out a startled laugh. “Okay, then. It’s a date.”

-

_Ping!_

Bucky looks up when his phone chimes with a text message alert. It's still pretty early in the day and Bucky can’t think of any reason that someone would text him before noon. He’s not really supposed to be on his phone while he’s at work, but he’s curious, so he checks the message.

It's from Sam.

_You free to have lunch?_

Bucky blinks at his phone screen, squinting at it and making sure he’s seeing correctly.

Sam and Bucky are friends. But Bucky has always felt that Sam was more Steve’s friend and only his friend by proxy. They get along well when they are together, but they usually only interact at group events. They don’t really hang out just the two of them. Which is why Bucky is surprised at Sam’s invitation to lunch. Surprised and maybe a little bit suspicious, but no one has to know that.

He checks his schedule. Since it's the middle of the work week, things are slow and his lunch break lines up with Sams. Bucky texts back with an affirmative. They text a few more times sorting out the logistics before finally agreeing to meet at a place that’s halfway between their two workplaces.

Bucky’s lunch break rolls around and he punches out, then finds his supervisor to make sure she knows he won’t be on the premises for his break. She sends him off with a wave and a smile. He makes his way down to the little cafe and sees Sam already sitting down at one of their outside tables.

“Hey Sam,” Bucky says, once he’s within earshot.

“Bucky! Just the man I wanted to see,” Sam turns and waves him over. They exchange pleasantries as Bucky plops down into the open seat, asking after each others jobs and engaging in all the usual small talk of friends who haven’t seen each other in a while. It's not until they’re halfway through their meal that Sam gets down to business.

“So, I heard about your date on Saturday.”

“Oh no,” Bucky groans. While he and Steve had ultimately come to an understanding, his date-not-date with Steve on Saturday had been one of the most embarrassing and frustrating nights of his life.

Sam laughs at him good naturedly. “Oh yeah. I heard it was a hot mess. But I also heard that you’re trying again?” He phrases it as a question and looks to Bucky expectantly.

Bucky nods and picks at what's left of the food on his plate. “Um, yeah. We’re gonna have dinner on Friday.”

Sam leans forward, elbows on the table. “You don’t sound all that excited about it.”

“I am excited,” Bucky says but even he can tell it's not convincing. “It’s just…” He sighs. “It’s like I told Steve, I don’t date. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing, I don’t know how this whole thing works. I guess I’m just nervous.”

“That's normal,” Sam says.

Bucky hums in agreement but says nothing more. He can feel Sam’s eyes on him and it makes him want to fidget in his seat. _Yeah,_ he thinks. _It's normal to be nervous, but it's not normal to be having your first date at 25._

Sam takes a moment, looking thoughtfully at Bucky before he speaks again. “Steve really cares about you. You know that right?” His tone is serious and it makes Bucky nervous. He feels like whatever Sam is going to say is going to be important.

“Well yeah. He’s one of my best friends and I’d hope he’d care about me since he asked me out.” Bucky jokes, hoping that Sam won’t see through his discomfort. It doesn’t work.

“Bucky. I’ve known Steve for a while now. He’s impulsive most of the time. He jumps into things without thinking and follows his gut instinct even when he most definitely should not.” Bucky’s heart drops. Sam’s gonna tell him that this was a mistake after all, that Steve wasn’t thinking and that it's not going to work out. Oh god, did Steve send Sam to break up with him before they even go out?

“Bucky!” Sam’s fingers snapping in front of his face bring him out of his head and back into the moment, which currently has Sam giving him an unimpressed look. “I saw you start to panic and it's not what you think. Just let me finish talking before you start spiraling, okay?” Bucky nods and tries not to feel embarrassed at how easily Sam could read him. Has he always been that transparent? _God, I hope not._

“I’m not trying to freak you out or anything. I’m telling you this because it's only been a few days since you agreed to go on a real date with Steve and I have never seen him this nervous. Ever.”

Bucky must have misheard him. “Wait—Steve’s nervous?”

Sam smirks. “Oh yeah. Trust me on this. He may try to act cool about it, but he is definitely panicking a little. Or a lot.”

Bucky smiles a little at the idea of Steve panicking, his brain providing a mental image of him running around like a chicken with its head cut off. It calms some of Bucky’s nerves knowing that Steve might be feeling the same way.

“Huh. Nervous Steve. That makes me feel a little better about this whole thing.”

Sam leans back in his chair, smiling. “Glad to hear it. He’d probably want to punch me for telling you because it ruins his whole cool guy, go with the flow image he swears he’s not projecting, but I figured it was worth the risk.”

“Well, thank you for telling me,” Bucky says. He grins and adds, “Honestly, Steve’s cool guy image is immediately destroyed anytime he’s within fifty feet of a dog, so I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling.”

Sam laughs, nodding in agreement before his face shifts into something more sincere.

“As much as I love making fun of Steve, I did want you to know that he is taking this seriously. He cares about you, and he may have jumped the gun on your first date-not-date or whatever, but he is trying to do it right the second time around.”

Sam fidgets with his napkin, leaving time for Bucky to consider his words before he speaks again. “He told me that you said you don’t really date, and I think it's one of the reasons he’s freaking out a little.” He holds a hand up to stop Bucky from speaking. “You have your reasons and whatever they are I’m sure they’re perfectly valid. You don’t need to explain it to me. Hell, you don’t even have to explain it to Steve if you don’t want to. But I don’t want you to feel like you _can’t_ tell him.”

Sam looks at Bucky in a way that makes him want to squirm in his seat; looks at him like he knows that Bucky is hiding something, maybe even knows what it is that he’s hiding. The thought of Sam knowing without having to tell him is almost comforting. Would be comforting if the thought wasn’t occuring during this particular conversation about this particular anxiety-ridden situation.

“I know this is probably a little rough for you, if my secondhand understanding of Saturday is anything to go by.” Bucky flushes, imagining how the whole situation must seem to someone on the outside.

“And that’s okay. And if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you, man. But don’t discount Steve before you’ve given him a chance. He may not always use his brain,” Sam shakes his head fondly. “But his heart is always in the right place. I’m sure he’d be more than willing to listen.”

Their server comes by with the checks and Bucky takes the opportunity to regain his composure. They each pay for their meal and make their way out of the restaurant. Sam gives him a tight hug before they head off in opposite directions. He watches as Sam turns back gives a little wave before disappearing around the corner, leaving Bucky with a lot to think about.

-

Bucky is distracted for the rest of the afternoon. He can’t get his mind to quiet enough to focus on his work. He keeps thinking about lunch with Sam and he can’t shake the feeling that maybe Sam knew Bucky is keeping secrets. He thinks about his upcoming date with Steve. He keeps thinking about how easy it would be if someone else knew. How relieved he would feel if he could just _tell someone,_ reassure himself that maybe things aren’t always as bad as he thinks _._

Bucky sighs, resigning himself to an unproductive day. Somewhere in the mid afternoon, an idea pops into his head. It keeps coming back like an annoying gnat on a hot day and try as he might he just can’t swat this one away. The day crawls on and when it’s finally time to go home, Bucky can’t wait to get out of there. He calls out a hasty goodbye to his coworkers before practically running out the door. By the time he gets home, his mind is made up.

-

The phone picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“I’m asexual.”

There’s a pause and then Sam says, “Hold on.”

Bucky chews on the skin around his fingernails and he can hear muffled speaking before Sam comes back and says loudly, “Steve says hi, Ma.” There’s the distant sound of a door closing and then Sam says quietly, “Alright man, I’m here. I went out into the stairway in the hall so unless Steve is really curious about my mom’s well being we should be okay.”

Bucky doesn't say anything in response. When he’d decided to call Sam, he hadn’t really expected to get this far. If he was being honest, he’d hoped that Sam would be busy and the call would go to voicemail and if Sam asked about the missed call he could just play it off as a butt-dial or something. But Sam answered and all of Bucky’s chill flew right out the window and he just blurted it out. And now he has no idea what to say next. So he rambles.

“Uh, thanks, Sam. I, uh, um—I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just call you out of the blue like that, I should have, um, texted or something just in case you were busy or something but I guess you’re not busy otherwise you wouldn’t have answered so I guess it really doesn’t matter but, uh, I’m sorry anyway. Oh god, you were probably enjoying your evening and I just-”

Sam stops him from embarrassing himself any further. “Bucky. It’s okay.”

He closes his mouth with a little click and takes a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” Sam says again and this time Bucky knows he’s not talking about the interruption to his evening.

Bucky lets the breath out, slow. Neither of them speaks for a moment, Sam just waiting and Bucky just breathing.

Finally, Sam breaks the silence. “Have you told anyone else?”

“No,” Bucky laughs nervously. “Well, Clint and Nat know, but not because I told them. They figured it out and then Nat basically interrogated me until I confirmed her suspicions.”

Sam laughs. “That definitely sounds like her.”

“Yeah, so. They know, but you’re the first person I’ve actually told.” He only realizes that it’s true as he says it. “The only person I’ve told…” Bucky trails off, uncertainty still gnawing at him.

The cat’s out of the bag. He’s told Sam and now all he can do is wait and see. He truly doesn’t think that Sam will say anything hurtful, at least not on purpose, but that doesn’t stop his nerves. He’s probably should say something else but honestly doesn’t know how to proceed.

“Bucky?” Sam says as if sensing his unease.

Bucky’s mouth is suddenly dry. He opts for a simple “Hm?” instead of struggling to speak.

“I’m glad you told me. Trusted me enough to tell me.” Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. “So,” Sam starts, “stop me if you don’t wanna say, but I take it this is part of the reason you ‘don’t really date’?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs. “That’s pretty much the whole reason.”

Sam stays silent for a moment. “Well, I meant what I said before. You don’t have to tell Steve anything you’re not comfortable with, but if you did chose to tell him, he’d listen.”

“Thanks, Sam. I know he would but I just don’t think I’m ready for that yet.” He chuckles nervously. “I don’t even know if I’m really ready for Saturday yet, to be honest.”

“You’re gonna be fine.” Sam laughs.

“I sure hope so.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sam says again. “Steve on the other hand? Him, I’m not too sure about.”

Bucky laughs. “He’s still freaking out?”

“Oh, yeah. Like a hamster lost at sea.”

Bucky can’t help but laugh at the absurd comparison, and Sam informs him that it is a “Grade A saying provided by Mama Wilson so you better treat it with respect.” They chat for a few more minutes about nothing in particular before Sam says, “I should probably get back. If I leave Steve alone in my place for too long, he’ll start raiding the cabinets for snacks. Last time I left him in there while I switched my laundry and he ate my entire stash of Milano cookies.”

“I’d better let you go then. Wouldn’t want there to be any more cookie casualties,” Bucky jokes. “Thanks a lot, Sam. For listening. And sorry again, for springing this on you.”

“There’s no need to apologize, man. I’m glad that I could be here for you.”

“Night, Sam.”

“G’night, Bucky.”

The call ends and Bucky lets out a big sigh of relief. Sam knows. And Sam believes him.

Biting back a smile, he opens his messages.

**I told Sam.**

**_????_ **

**About me.**

**_and?_ **

**He was pretty chill about it.**

**_See that wasn’t so hard right? Ready to tell steve now?_ **

**Well, i’m not trying to go out with sam so…not quite the same thing**

**...**

**You know, he’s the first person i actually told.**

He sees the three dots come up and responds before Clint can argue with him.

**You and nat figured it out and then questioned me about it. That does not count.**

Clint sends him a sad face emoji.

Bucky rolls his eyes even as his fingers are already tapping out a response.

**But i could have never made it this far without you guys so thanks**

The next message contains a happy face emoji followed by four heart emojis in varying colors.

**_We’re here for you bro. Always._ **

-

Friday rolls around much faster than Bucky thought it would. One minute he’s wishing his work friends a good weekend and the next he’s pacing in front of his closet trying to talk himself out of changing clothes. Again. He’s already wearing his best jeans and wonders if Steve will be wearing his hot ass pants again.

Bucky stares at his closet once more, then looks down at himself. “Fuck it, this is fine,” he mutters before turning away from his closet and searching for his keys and phone. It’s only 6, and while he and Steve agreed on 7pm for dinner, he’s ready now and knows that if he stays in his apartment for much longer he’s going to go crazy.

Steve lives close enough that he could walk but far enough away that most days you really wouldn’t want to. Today though, Bucky needs a way to work out his nervous energy and has decided that walking to Steve’s is the best way to do that.

Forty-five minutes later Bucky is a little less nervous and a little more sweaty as he approaches Steve’s building. Glancing at the time on his phone, Bucky briefly debates waiting until exactly 7:00 but isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of awkwardly milling about in front of Steve’s door for fifteen minutes.

“Guess I’ll just be early,” he mutters, then knocks on the door. He hears something clatter and a muffled, “Shit!” before the door opens to reveal Steve who offers no greeting other than, “You’re early.”

Bucky pushes past Steve into the apartment. “It was either be early or wait in the hall and I really didn’t wanna do that.” He tilts his head up, sniffing. “Is that dinner? It smells good.”

Looking into the kitchen, there’s a small saucepan on the stove and a casserole dish on the counter presumably responsible for the wonderfully savory aroma.

Steve nods, following Bucky inside. “Roast chicken and vegetables.” He gestures for Bucky to take a seat at the island.

Bucky has a good view of Steve as he moves around the kitchen and he finally gets a chance to get a good look at Steve. He’s wearing his hot pants again, much to Bucky’s delight. He is also wearing an honest to god apron and not the kind that they wear in restaurants that wrap around the waist. No, Steve is wearing a full apron that loops around his neck and covers his chest. He’s also not wearing shoes or socks and something about seeing Steve’s bare feet peeking out from under his jeans makes Bucky smile.

“I just took it out of the oven so it’s still too hot to eat. If someone,” he says pointedly, “hadn’t shown up early, I could have had it plated and ready to eat by the time you got here, but now you’ll just have to wait.”

Bucky merely shrugs, watching the way Steve moves as he wipes down the counters. When they’re out in public, Steve tends to have an air of formality, a seriousness that he can’t seem to shake. Bucky has mostly gotten through his defenses and when they’re hanging out just the two of them that odd, stiff, politeness melts away. But here in his own space, there’s a relaxation and ease to Steve that Bucky doesn’t often see.

Steve finishes cleaning up, then pulls two plates and two glasses from the cabinet. He fills the glasses with ice water, placing them both on the counter. A sheet pan of warm biscuits comes out of the oven and onto their plates. He begins to cut the chicken and serves vegetables. When Steve asks, “Gravy?” Bucky responds with an enthusiastic “Oh, yes please!”

Before Bucky knows it, Steve is sliding a plate across the counter to him and settling into the seat on the opposite side of the island. Now that there’s food in front of him, Bucky is suddenly ravenous. The walk to Steve’s apartment combined with his nerves has made him so hungry that the first bite of food is the best thing he’s ever tasted. So are the second and third bites.

“Steve. This is delicious. Really, the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Bucky takes another bite. “How did you get so good at cooking?” He asks, moaning around his fork.

Steve laughs at Bucky’s exaggerated reactions to his food, then smiles shyly. “I’ve had a lot of time and not a lot to do, so I figured I should learn to cook.” He quirks a brow. “I knew it would come in handy someday,” he says, winking at Bucky.

Bucky chokes on his next bite and reaches for his water to cover it up. He’d been so invested in eating that he’d almost forgotten they were on a date. A quick glance at Steve, who is examining a particularly interesting carrot, tells Bucky that maybe he’s not the only one who was worried about tonight. Not that he didn’t believe Sam, but seeing is believing.

They don’t speak for a few minutes, both silently focused on their food. Bucky keeps stealing glances at Steve, willing him to say something, anything to end this quiet between them. He’s reminded of last week, both of them eating pizza, another stewing silence between them. Bucky hadn’t known it was a date then, but he still hadn’t liked the feeling of being on the wrong foot. He picks up a potato with his fingers, preparing to toss it at Steve, but Steve choses that exact moment to look up from his plate. Their eyes meet, and Bucky quickly pops the potato in his mouth, plastering what he hopes is a nonchalant expression on his face.

“Something wrong with your fork?” Steve doesn’t bother trying to hide his grin.

Bucky knows when he’s been caught. “I was going to toss my potato at you like last week,” Bucky admits. “But then I decided that it was too delicious to waste.”

“Mhm.” Steve has a mischievous gleam in his eye. “You know,” Steve says slowly, “there is more food. I cooked enough so that there’d be leftovers.”

“Oh, well in that case,” Bucky says, plucking a carrot off his plate, “you won’t mind if I do this!” Bucky flings the carrot across the counter. Steve was ready for it and he maneuvers himself directly into the carrot’s path. Mouth open, Steve catches it and grins triumphantly at Bucky.

Eyes wide with amusement, Bucky grins. “No way. How did you catch that so easily?” He picks up another vegetable, broccoli this time.

“Bucky, come on. I’m still trying to eat,” Steve says, still chewing on his carrot.

“Nuh-uh, Rogers. You started this.” Bucky says, gesturing with his broccoli. “C’mon, get ready.”

Steve rolls his eyes but pushes back from the counter giving himself more space to move.

Bucky fires the broccoli. Steve catches it. Next, a potato. Steve catches it. Another carrot, some chicken, a piece of biscuit. Steve catches them all.

Steve grabs a potato from his own plate, smirking a little. “Your turn.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Uh-uh. No way.”

“Fair’s fair! If I have to be subjected to this then so do you.”

Bucky puts forth a valiant effort but he can’t seem to get a single piece of food into his mouth. The closest he gets is a bit of biscuit that bounces off his nose, sending the both of them laughing. Finally, Bucky admits defeat and bends down to pick up his missed targets off the floor, throwing them at Steve who catches them, putting them on a napkin.

“I can’t believe you caught all of those,” Bucky grumbles, sitting to finish the few vegetables left on his plate. His pride is a little wounded. He knew he wouldn’t be as good as Steve, but he had hoped he could catch at least one.

Steve shrugs. “Guess I just have good reflexes.” He spears a chunk of chicken with his fork, grinning at Bucky.

They’re both feeling loose and relaxed, their nerves from earlier settling as the evening starts to feel more familiar. After they finish eating, Bucky offers to help clean up dinner. Steve accepts his offer until he realizes that it was just a ploy for Bucky to pick at the leftovers as they clean. He shoos Bucky out of the kitchen and tells him to “keep your grubby, grabby hands away from the food!”

Laughing, Bucky makes his way over to the sofa. It’s much nicer than his couch. He found his couch on the internet. It was in good condition, but he’d bought it used and he’s had it for a while now. Steve’s couch is the kind of couch that he probably paid full price for. Probably tested it out at the furniture store too, just to be sure.

Making himself comfy, Bucky pulls out his phone, just idly scrolling through the vast treasure trove of the Internet. He finds some good memes, sending them to Steve even though he’s twenty feet away.

Steve finally finishes in the kitchen and comes to join Bucky on the couch. “Buck, why did you send me,“ he squints at his phone screen, “seven different posts? You couldn’t have just shown me?”

“Nope,” Bucky says, popping the p. “You were too far away. Plus, you kicked me out of the kitchen.”

“Okay, whatever, you drama queen.” Steve settles in next to Bucky, the two of them scrolling on their phones, occasionally showing each other what they’ve found. Eventually, they end up going down a viral video wormhole, both of them laughing and reenacting their favorites. They migrate towards each other on the couch, a once respectable distance between them now reduced to nearly nothing, pressed together from shoulders to knee, as they lean over each other to look at their tiny phone screens.

During one particularly long video (If over 30 seconds can be considered long, they are watching memes after all), Steve puts his arm around Bucky's shoulders, leaning even further into each other. There wasn’t even a cliched “I gotta stretch my arm, oh look now it’s on you” type maneuver. No pretense, Steve just lifts his arm and readjusts them. Bucky’s whole body lights up. He immediately loses all interest in the video they were watching, his whole focus shifting now to the other body cradling his.

_Get it together, Barnes. You’re only sitting on the couch for christ sake._ But Buckys unused being touched like this; it’s incredible. Steve’s so warm and Bucky’s so sure that Steve can hear his heart fluttering around in his chest like a bird in a cage.

They watch a few more videos, but Bucky isn’t paying attention to any of them, too aware of the closeness of Steve to think of anything else.

“Oh man, we’ve been watching videos for like 40 minutes!” Steve exclaims. He smiles at Bucky, giving his shoulder a little squeeze, a little thrill going through Bucky. “You want dessert?” Steves asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. Removing his arm from around Bucky, Steve levers himself off the couch, making himself busy in the kitchen once again. 

Bucky immediately mourns the loss of Steve’s body next to his, but he uses this time to catch his breath, try to relax before Steve comes back. He manages to get his brain and his mouth working enough to ask if Steve needs any help in the kitchen, peering over the back of the couch trying to catch a glimpse of what Steve has prepared for dessert. If it’s anything like dinner, he’s in for a treat.

“I’m good in here, Buck,” Steve says. “I won’t take that long. Why don’t you put on some music or something? I was planning on just finding something to watch after dinner, but I don’t know if I can handle much more after those all those videos we just watched.”

“Sure thing!” Bucky calls back, pulling up a playlist.

“Speaker should be on the coffee table,” Steve calls over his shoulder. Bucky connects to the speaker and music starts flowing, filling the room with some of Bucky’s favorite songs. He’d picked a more mellow playlist, with songs that could blend into the background without getting lost.

Finished with their mystery dessert, Steve makes his way over, two bowls in hand. He hands one over to Bucky as he plops back down on the couch, right where he was before, and Bucky delights in the closeness between them.

He looks down at the bowl in his hands and gasps. “Oh my god. Steve, this is amazing. It’s like a candy store exploded.”

Inside his bowl is a mound of ice cream, or at least Bucky suspects there is. It’s hard to tell because it’s buried under a pile of chocolate syrup and whipped cream, adorned with various gummy shapes. There are bears and snakes and cherries to accompany the real cherry that Steve has artfully placed in the middle of a dollop of whipped cream. Willy Wonka would have been proud.

Taking a bite, Bucky is surprised when his ice cream crunches. “What else is in here? Why is it crunchy?” Bucky asks through his mouthful of frozen deliciousness.

“I put some pretzel pieces on the bottom. For contrast.” Steve explains. “Salty to go with the sweet.”

“I thought it was supposed to be salty _or_ sweet?” Bucky says, licking the whipped cream off of a gummy snake before he holds it above his head, lowering it into his mouth.

Steve shrugs and merely says, “Porque no los dos?” which makes Bucky laugh and his gummy almost falls right out of his mouth.

“I’m surprised that you’re actually eating all of this,” Bucky nods towards Steve’s bowl which is also piled high with sweets, “considering how you’re always yelling at me about eating too much sugar and not enough vegetables or whatever.”

Taking another bite of ice cream, Steve nudges Bucky with his shoulder. “Special occasion,” he says, eyes twinkling.

Bucky doesn’t look away but he can’t stop the blush that rises to his cheeks. He doesn’t say anything back but nudges Steve in return, a small smile playing at his lips. They eat their ice cream in a comfortable silence, the warmth and contentment of the evening settling over Bucky like a ray of sunshine.

This must have been how Steve felt last week, on Bucky’s couch after a night out, happy to simply be with him. Bucky had felt it too, he realizes. The satisfaction of a good night settling between them right before the moment had been shattered. His stomach clenches, the ice cream churning unpleasantly as he recalls last week. For the first time, Bucky realizes just how awful it must have been for Steve to be ripped from this feeling and told that it meant nothing.

Bucky squirms in his seat, guilt and shame trying their best to gnaw at him. He tries to ignore it.

Bucky leans forward, placing his now empty bowl on the table. He shifts his body so that he’s facing Steve more directly.

“Steve,” Bucky begins, “I wanted to say that I’m sorry for the way I reacted last week. I was really thrown off when you said it was a date and my brain just kind of went _does not compute.”_ He chuckles, a little self consciously. “I wasn’t even dressed when you showed up at my apartment! That should have clued you in that I wasn’t prepared for a date.” It’s kind of funny, in retrospect. 

Steve laughs too. “Yeah, I guess now looking back it was pretty obvious. But I know that you’re either really early to stuff or late, and I had just assumed you’d be running late, so I showed up a little early to help move you along. And because I couldn’t stand waiting in my apartment any longer.”

“Aw, too nervous about our date?” Bucky teases, thinking back to his lunch with Sam. Steve takes his hand and says, “Well, yeah.”

He shouldn't be surprised, but Steve’s admitting that Bucky makes him nervous, and combined with the fact that he’s holding his hand, it makes him feel weird things. Things he’s never felt before. Bucky tries to ignore it, but his stomach is doing flips and he suddenly feels too hot. It’s like a spike of adrenaline, shooting sparks of warmth through to the tips of his toes.

“This was really nice, Steve. I’m sorry I ruined it last week.” Bucky says quietly. He keeps his eyes focused on their clasped hands. “But I’m glad we got to try again. Best first date I’ve ever been on.”

Looking up he sees Steve looking at him intently. Ordinarily, Bucky thinks he’d be uncomfortable with the amount of direct attention he’s getting, but here, now, with Steve on their first real date, he doesn’t mind so much.

“Me too, Buck,” Steve whispers, and then he starts to lean in closer and before he can process what is happening, Bucky reflexively jerks away from him.

Steve sits back, face clouded with hurt and rejection while Bucky is frozen with fear and embarrassment.

“Oh my god, Steve. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—it’s not—“

“No, it’s fine,” Steve says quickly. “I shouldn’t have—” he trails off awkwardly.

Bucky wants the ground to swallow him whole. Steve had just tried to kiss him. And he fucking flinched.

Steve reaches for his hand again, the touch comforting despite the uncomfortable atmosphere. He takes a deep breath before asking, “I should have asked. Can I kiss you?”

Bucky should say yes. He _wants_ to say yes. He wants to know how it feels, to kiss and be kissed; he has thought about it, has spent countless nights thinking about it, endlessly. And to be kissed by _Steve._ Steve who put so much thought and care into making sure tonight was perfect, despite the rocky road they took to get here.

Bucky wants it so bad he can hardly breathe. But he can’t get his stupid mouth to work because it’s being held captive by the nasty voice in his head, the one that whispers all the things he doesn’t want to hear. What if he hates it? What if he’s bad at kissing and Steve is grossed out and never wants to kiss him again? What if Steve kisses him and he likes it and it’s amazing but Steve wants more? What if Bucky can’t give him more? What if Steve leaves?

A gentle squeeze to his hand reminds him that he’s just been sitting there wide-eyed next to Steve while he’s been panicking internally. And he still hasn’t answered.

“I, uh…” He stammers, trying to form any kind of coherent statement. “I just need—I’ll be right back.”

Bucky promptly stands and flees.


	3. Chapter 3

He closes the door much more forcefully than he intended, wincing a little at the resounding slam as it echos around the small room. He leans back against the door, breathing heavily. 

_ Steve just tried to kiss me. He tried to kiss me and what did I do? I ran. Into his bathroom.  _ He groans.  _ Nice going, Barnes. Now you’re trapped in his bathroom. You should have just gone out the front door because then at least you wouldn’t have to fucking walk past him again after you flinched and ran when he tried to kiss you!  _

Slowly, Bucky slides down to the floor and cradles his knees, letting his head fall back against the door with a thud. Now that he’s no longer face to face with Steve, he’s managed to calm down a little bit. He tries to think logically about it, review the facts. He’s on a date with Steve. That’s good. Steve tried to kiss him. That’s also good. He was surprised by Steve trying to kiss him and instead of reciprocating, he flinched, and then upon realizing what he’d done, he literally ran away. That’s not so good. It’s bad. Very bad. 

_ What do I do now? _ He can’t even call Clint for help because he doesn’t have his phone. It wasn’t in his pocket when he just said NOPE and ran away into the bathroom, and now he’s basically trapped here until Steve forgets about him or falls asleep so he can make his escape. The chances of either of those things happening are slim to none. Bucky knows it’s only a matter of time before Steve comes to check on him.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there on the cold tile of the bathroom floor with his head on his knees, but for all the time he’s been there he still doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Steve when (or if) he comes out of the bathroom. He does know that his ass is numb from sitting so long and is just thinking about at least standing up to get the blood flowing again when there’s a soft knock on the door above his head.

“Bucky? Are you okay?” 

Bucky closes his eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

Neither of them say anything else. He can hear Steve moving on the other side of the door. He hears Steve take a few hesitant steps away from the door before making up his mind, turning around and walking purposefully back to the bathroom door.

“Can I come in?” 

Bucky opens his eyes and leans his head back as if he can see Steve through the wood of the door. He sighs. He can’t stay in this bathroom forever. Might as well get this over with. 

“Hold on,” Bucky calls back. Still on the floor, he scoots over so that he’s leaning against the side of the tub, leaving the door clear. 

“Okay. You can come in now.” He watches as the door knob slowly turns and the door is pushed open. Steve enters and seeing Bucky on the floor, closes the door behind him and takes Bucky’s recently vacated spot against the door. Bucky raises an eyebrow as Steve attempts to make himself comfortable on the floor. Bucky has a sneaking suspicion that if he had been sitting on the toilet, Steve would have sat on the edge of the tub just so they were on the same level and he wasn’t looming over Bucky. The thought makes him smile, and he ducks his head to try to hide it, because  _ god damn it Bucky, this is not a smiling situation.  _

Silence settles between them, sitting heavily on the bathroom floor. Bucky has already made an ass of himself and so refuses to be the first to speak. Steve, on the other hand...well Bucky has no idea what Steve is thinking, but he did come check on Bucky and hasn’t cursed or yelled at him so maybe whatever thoughts are swirling around in Steve’s head aren’t all bad. 

“Bucky, I’m sorry. I keep messing this up and...I’m sorry.” 

Bucky absolutely does not like the look on Steve’s face, like he’s just been told that he’s failed a test he studied really hard for, lost and defeated.

“No, Steve.” Bucky says gently. “It’s not you. Honestly. It’s just — ” He sighs putting his head in his hands. “It’s me. I’m keep fucking it up and I don’t know how to — ” 

“No, I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.” Steve says, shaking his head. “You obviously didn’t want that and — ” 

“Steve, no.” Bucky interrupts. He whips his head up, suddenly very desperate to make Steve understand. “It’s not that I don’t - want that. It’s just that… I wasn’t exaggerating last week when I said I don’t do this. I’ve never dated before, never been in any kind of relationship. I’m flying so completely blind here that I keep running into walls, and I’m like a bat stuck in the corner of a room, and I don’t know how I even got in here, and I’m like a stupid bat that can’t even use echolocation so I’m just stuck…” Bucky trails off as realizes that he’s rambling on like an _ idiot  _ about being a fucking bat. 

“Anyway, it’s not all your fault and I’m sorry, too. Is what I was trying to say just then with the, uh, the stupid bat analogy, I don’t even know where that came from…” Bucky winces. He thought tonight couldn’t get any worse, but apparently it can so long as his mouth keeps going without consulting his brain first. 

“It’s not the worst analogy you could have used,” Steve says slowly, as if he’s making sure that Bucky isn’t going to start talking about any more nocturnal wildlife before he keeps going. “But I think I get where you’re coming from.” 

Bucky squints at Steve, doubtful. “You do?” 

Steve nods. “I don’t have a lot of dating experience either. Contrary to what you might think, I didn’t always look like this.” He ducks his head, avoiding Bucky’s eyes and rubs his neck self-consciously as he talks. “I used to be really skinny and sick all the time and no one really wanted to even talk to me let alone go on a date with me. It wasn’t until after the  — ” Steve’s eyes flash to Bucky before he continues, voice a little strangled, “... _ the growth spurt  _ that anyone really started to give me the time of day.”

Steve clears his throat and turns towards Bucky. “I’ve been on some dates, but none that went particularly well. I get pretty nervous and usually end up putting my foot in my mouth one way or another.” 

Bucky stretches out his leg and nudges Steve with his foot. “You didn’t seem nervous tonight, and from where I’m sitting it looks like both of your feet are definitely not in your mouth.” 

Steve rolls his eyes at him, shaking his head. “No, I just messed up in a much more embarrassing way.” 

Bucky opens his mouth to tell Steve that it’s okay, but then holds his tongue. This situation is plenty embarrassing for both of them and brushing it under the rug isn't gonna help either of them. 

Steve sighs, dropping his head against the door. “I really like you, Bucky.” He swivels his head around to face him. “The last couple of years have been kind of rough, and you’ve kind of become my best friend.” Steve grins dopily at him and Bucky feels his face flush. In the past year of knowing Steve, he’s quickly become one of Bucky’s best friends too. Bucky’s about to tell him as much, but Steve continues on. 

“I’d never really had a best friend and then I started to realize that you were maybe becoming more than that and god, I was so nervous that you were weren’t gonna say yes to a date, especially after last week.” Shaking his head, he says, “I had no idea what I was doing, I still don’t if I’m being honest. I wasn’t even sure if you were gay.” 

Bucky never really thought about how he came off to other people. Not that he really cared, seeing as how he wasn’t much into the whole dating scene, but Steve’s comment brings with it an opportunity. He could very easily just ignore it and continue letting Steve assume that Bucky is gay. 

_ Or.  _

Or Bucky could tell him the truth. He’s gonna have to do it at some point and considering that he’s spent far too long on this bathroom floor and has yet to come up with a good excuse for bolting like a frightened street cat at the first sign of intimacy, he may as well just get on with it. Rip off the band aid.

“Well, I’m not.” Bucky says, casually. He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “Not really.”

Steve stares at him.

“Um. Well…,” Steve proceeds cautiously, obviously trying to find a delicate way to navigate this minefield of a situation. “If you’re not gay then why did you agree to this date with me?” 

“Because I like you.” Bucky says, truthfully. “You’re one of my best friends too. But, I wouldn’t really say I’m attracted to men.” He can see that Steve’s not really catching on so he adds, “I’m not really attracted to anyone.”

“Then what…” Steve’s eyebrows are drawn together and the look on his face would be adorable if it were happening at any other time. “I’m confused,” Steve admits. 

_ It's now or never, Bucko. _

Bucky takes a deep breath, letting it out slow, stalling just a little before he dives in. 

“Okay, first off,” Bucky begins. “I don’t like labels. I never really have. Some people think they’re great and it makes them feel free to express themselves or whatever and that’s totally cool, but I just don’t really like them.” He frowns a little. “I think they’re constricting and just place another set of expectations on people. People think they know everything about you based on their shitty ideas of whatever you choose to identify as. I hate feeling like people know more about me than I do.” He pauses, taking a quick look at Steve. He sees Steve nod a little in agreement with his last statement and it gives Bucky the strength to press on.

“So I don’t like labels but but if I had to pick one I’d probably go with ace. Asexual. Somewhere on that spectrum.” 

“Okay.” Steve speaks slowly, like he’s still processing. “Is this why you freaked out so much when I thought we were on a date?” 

Bucky looks away, embarrassed. “Yeah, pretty much. Dating isn’t really a part of my life and I panicked.” 

“Hey, no. Bucky, it’s okay.” Steve’s voice is so sincere that Bucky can’t help but turn back to him, despite his discomfort. “So, you don’t like sex,” Steve shrugs. “That’s not that bad.” 

Bucky makes a frustrated noise, trying not to get angry.  _ This is exactly what you were afraid of,  _ the little voice in his head chimes in. He shakes his head, trying to physically rid himself of his negative thoughts. 

“No, Steve. It’s not that I just  _ don’t like sex,”  _ he says through gritted teeth, frustrations bleeding through. “That’s not what I mean. It’s more complicated than that — ”

Reeling himself back in, Bucky takes a moment to breathe. He shouldn’t snap at Steve, but he feels like the other shoe has finally dropped. He’s been so afraid for so long that he’s become quick to argue. But Steve hasn’t outright said that Bucky is wrong or broken; he just doesn’t fully understand. 

“Sorry, Steve. It’s just,” Bucky sighs before starting over, regaining some of his composure. He tries again.

“It was easier when I was younger,” Bucky begins. “In high school people should have been busy dealing with their own shit to be concerned about me, and they probably were, but I used to be so worried about what other people thought of me. I was so convinced that someone was gonna point out how I got quiet when the topic of conversation was too sexual, or that people were gonna notice that I always sat out when someone suggested playing truth or dare, or spin the bottle or any of those dumb games that was really just an excuse for teenagers to touch each other. I faked it as best as I could. I used to say to myself, ‘oh it's okay that you’re not really getting crushes on people and going on dates. It’s okay that you haven’t kissed anyone yet, you’re just a late bloomer’.”

He visibly cringes at the word and shakes his head. “It’s such a stupid phrase and I hate it now but at the time it was really all I had and so I clung to it. Clung to this idea that it just hadn’t happened yet. Just holding on to this thought that one day  _ something _ , I didn’t even really know what, but I just thought that if I could just wait until  _ something _ happened, then suddenly I’d understand everyone’s obsession with dating and sex. That I’d finally be normal, like everyone else.”

He shakes his head. “But you can only call yourself a late bloomer for so long.” 

Bucky stops talking for a long time. He glances at Steve, worried that he’d somehow scared him off. He hadn’t really meant to start telling Steve his whole life story. But he’s been holding it all inside him, all these feelings and thoughts that are constantly running through his head, and he finally needs to get it all out. He just needs someone to listen. And Steve’s been listening so far. 

“It wasn’t until I was like, halfway done with college that I started to really look into it. It was a lot of late night googling in incognito mode.” He lets out a humourless laugh. “I did some research online and I started to find things that other people had written that I could relate to. I’d seen the word and did a lot of reading on being asexual before I could use it to refer to myself, even in my head. But even though I was getting closer, had maybe found the answer, I was still scared. It still wasn’t exactly right.” 

He stops again, searching for the right words. 

“How do you identify something you’ve never had? I used to think sexual attraction was just some giant cosmic joke that I just wasn’t in on. Like if I pretended that I understood, sooner or later I eventually would. But it never happened. And then it took so long for me to figure myself out.” 

Steve’s voice is quiet, as if speaking too loud is going to destroy the cocoon of vulnerability and trust that Bucky has built around them. “So you’ve just never dated anyone?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

They’re quiet for a long moment, each in their own heads. 

Chewing on his lip, Bucky waits. Steve’s silence is making him nervous. He doesn’t know what to expect from Steve and while he likes to think that he knows Steve pretty well, this is still uncharted territory. Yet, despite his nerves, Bucky feels a little better. This is the most he’s ever voluntarily spoken about the subject since Natasha had confronted him. At this point, Steve might actually know more than Natasha. 

Bucky makes a mental note to never let her know that. 

The cold of the tile floor is slowly seeping through his pants and he shifts, trying to make himself more comfortable only to have his butt explode into pins and needles. Wincing, he breaks the silence. 

“Hey, Steve?” 

Steve turns to him, brows furrowed. “Hmm?” He’s looking at Bucky like he’s a puzzle that he just can’t quite solve. 

“Can we maybe get out of the bathroom now? My ass is killing me.” 

Steve’s face smooths. “Oh. Yeah, sure.” He stands and offers his hand to help Bucky up. They make their way back to the living room, Bucky on unstable legs.

Steve heads straight back to the couch, but Bucky takes a detour into the kitchen under the clever guise of procuring a glass of water when really it’s just an excuse to stretch his legs and distract himself from the fact that Steve hasn’t really said anything yet. 

Running out of reasons not to, Bucky reluctantly makes his way back to the couch. He sits next to Steve, nowhere near as close as they were before. He wants to be, but considering the situation at hand, thinks that it may be wiser to keep his distance. 

“So, uh..” 

Bucky flounders. He hadn’t really meant to say anything but the silence was becoming unbearable. 

“Um… so,” he trails off, unsure. 

Thankfully, Steve saves them both from any more of Bucky’s stammering. 

“Bucky, it's okay.” 

He hadn’t realized that he’d been walking around with a ten pound weight on his back, but when it suddenly disappears, Bucky can’t help but notice. 

“It is?” He hates how small and insecure his voice sounds, but he asks anyway because he needs to know that Steve means it. 

Steve nods, edges of his mouth turned up in a small smile. 

“So, you’re not like weirded out or anything?” 

“What? No.” Steve smile disappears. Shaking his head, he says, “Bucky, listen.” He turns his body so that he’s fully facing Bucky, one knee bent on the couch between them. 

“Tonight was a lot,” he says, ducking his head to maintain eye contact when Bucky starts to turn away, feelings of shame returning. “For both of us.” He gives Bucky a meaningful look. “Thank you for telling me all of that. I know that you probably weren’t planning on it, and I am so sorry if I pushed you into it.” He is sorry. Bucky can tell, the remorse plain on his face. 

Throat tight, Bucky says nothing but reaches over, squeezing Steve’s hand in silent forgiveness. 

“But Bucky,” Steve says, unwavering, “that doesn’t change the fact that I still want to date the hell out of you.” 

That startles a watery laugh out of Bucky. Steve places his hand gently on Bucky’s face. Bucky closes his eyes briefly, leaning into the touch. 

“I know we have some things to figure out,” Steve says quietly, “but maybe we can figure them out together?” 

And Steve’s hands are so warm and his face is so earnest and Bucky is so emotionally overwhelmed that he can’t even answer properly. He, just leans forward, resting his head on Steve’s chest while he nods. Steve’s arms wind around him, just holding him in place. After a moment, Steve says, “hold on” while he straightens his legs on the couch and leans back against the arm rest, pulling Bucky down with him so that he’s half on top of Steve and half pressed up against the back of the couch. They lay like that for a long while, Bucky finally starting to calm down, letting himself just absorb all that’s happened tonight, with Steve’s hand rubbing gently along Bucky’s back. 

The combined warmth of Steve’s body and the soothing movement of Steve’s hands on him make Bucky feel like he’s floating. It’s probably late and he should probably think about going home at some point, but he really doesn’t want to leave the comfort of right now. He could probably fall asleep like this, if it weren’t for Steve whispering his name. 

“Bucky?” 

_ Please don’t make me get up.  _ Keeping his eyes closed, Bucky replies softly, “Yeah, Steve?”

“Can I ask you a question?” 

He hums, giving Steve the go ahead.

“Don’t you get lonely?” 

Bucky opens his eyes, pressing up a little so he can get a good look at Steve. His hand on Bucky’s back stills and he looks a little nervous, like he’s trying not to pry, but he steels himself and continues on nonetheless. 

“I was thinking about what you said...about just not dating anyone. And I get why,” he assures quickly, “but I can’t help but think that it seems like a pretty lonely way to live.”

Laying back down, Bucky considers the question. He’s always been pretty good at keeping himself busy, minimizing the time he spends by himself, first with school, now with work. He makes an effort to talk to his mom and hang out with Nat and Clint, tries to surround himself with people he cares about… but that’s not what Steve means. Not being alone isn’t the same as not being lonely. 

“Yeah, but it’s not so bad.” He sighs. “The loneliness is like a dull ache. Sometimes you feel it more than others.” Bucky pauses, casting a quick glance at Steve. He nods for Bucky to continue, hand moving soft and slow once again on his back. “Like, it's really bad sometimes at night when I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about how alone I am and it feels like the worst thing.” Bucky pauses, pushing away the melancholy that sometimes threatens to consume him. 

“But other times, I don’t feel so alone.” He props himself up again and looks over at Steve with a small smile. “Like when I’m with you.” He swallows hard, heart pounding. “When I’m with you I forget what being lonely feels like.”

He feels Steve’s quick inhale, feels his hand still once again on his back. Steve is looking at him like he’s the mosts amazing thing he’s ever seen, like he holds all of the secrets of the universe. 

“I’d really like to kiss you. Is that something you’re okay with?” 

Bucky heart is going to beat out of his chest. “I think so, but I’ve never kissed anyone before.” He worries at his lip, eyes drawn to Steve’s. 

“That’s okay.” 

“Steve?” His voice is barely a whisper. 

“Hmm?”

“I’m nervous.” 

“That’s okay. Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m nervous too. I haven’t done this since — well, not in a long time.” 

“That’s okay.” Bucky reaches over slowly, tracing a finger over Steve’s lips, touch feather light.

“Together?” he says. 

Steve just nods, and Bucky pushes himself up so that he’s no longer laying entirely on Steve and brings them face to face. He leans forwards, just a little, but then stops. He has no idea how to do this. 

Steve seems to though, closing the gap between them, hand still warm on Bucky’s back. 

The kiss is soft and tender. Slow and unhurried, they both take the time to savor the moment. Bucky lets Steve take the lead, letting himself be swept along in the feel of Steve’s lips, bodies pressed close. Steve’s hand moves, fingers twining gently in the soft hairs at the base of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. 

When they break apart, Bucky’s face is hot and the heat of Steve’s hand on his neck makes his skin tingle. His head is swimming and he feels like if he opens his eyes the world would be spinning. 

He savors the moment, Steve’s breath mingling with his before he slowly opens his eyes. Steve’s eyes are sparkling and neither one of them can control the matching dopey grins spreading across their faces. 

Steve rubs their noses together. “I think that went rather well, don’t you?” Holding back a smile, Bucky nods then Steve darts forwards, stealing another quick kiss. 

Humming softly, Bucky snuggles back the warmth of Steve, wriggling a little to get his arms around him. He squeezes Steve tightly, once, before settling back down, listening to the heart beating beneath his ear. 

Breathing in Steve’s scent, Bucky doesn’t bother hiding his smile as he thinks,  _ Yep, definitely the best first date.  _

-

He wakes up with half of his body trapped. Blinking blearily in the early morning light, Bucky pries his body out of the chasm of the couch, resettling himself more comfortably on top of the cushions. He’s mostly awake now, wiping away the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. Unrushed, with nowhere to be and no strong inclination to move any further he lets his eyes wander. He is not unfamiliar with Steve’s apartment, but he’s never woken up buried in the couch the morning after a date with Steve.

Last night feels like a dream, but he woke up on Steve’s couch and not in his own bed so he’s pretty sure it was real. And it was amazing. 

There’s a buzzing noise from somewhere nearby, and it distracts Bucky from grinning like a dope thinking about last night. He reaches towards the coffee table, looking for his phone. He finally finds it, opening his messages, groaning when he sees the time. 

**_Hey how was the date?_ **

**Clint, what the hell are you doing texting me at this ungodly hour?**

**_7:30 is not ungodly. stop deflecting._ **

**Remember how I was scared that Steve was gonna react if I told him about me? Well, I should have been more worried about me because he tried to kiss me and I literally ran away.**

**_Omg bucky no_ **

**Yeah and then I panicked and kind of told him everything.**

**_Yikes. How’d that go?_ **

**Well…**

**He kissed me and then we fell asleep cuddling on his couch so….I’d say pretty well.**

**_AW YES. GET IT._ **

**_Seriously though, i’m happy for you._ **

**_But if you guys act all gross and couple-y when we all hang out I will punch you until you stop_ **

The sound of the lock in the door catches his attention and he props himself up to peer over the back of the couch just in time to see Steve push the door closed with his hips, hands full. He catches sight of Bucky and a grin spreads across his face. 

“Hey. You’re up early.” His smile falters. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?” 

Bucky shakes his head. “Nope. Whatcha got there?” He nods to the paper bags in Steve’s hands. 

“I picked up some breakfast sandwiches on my way back.” 

“Back from where?” Bucky says, rolling off the couch and heading over to investigate the food. 

“Running with Sam.” Steve places the sandwiches on the counter then bends over to untie his shoes.

“You went running? Already?” Bucky looks horrified at the thought of waking up early enough to be done with a run before 8am.

“Well, yeah.” Steve suddenly looks stricken. “Should I have cancelled? You were still asleep and I thought that if I got back before you woke up-” 

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts. “It’s fine. I’m not mad that you went on a run, more just personally disgusted with the whole idea of running.” 

Steve visibly relaxes, joining Bucky as he unpacks the food. Steve reaches for a bagel but then thinks better of it. “Would you mind if I went and took a shower first? You can go ahead and eat, I won’t take long.” 

“Sure thing.” Bucky wrinkles his nose. “Wouldn’t want you dripping sweat all over the food anyway.” 

He shrieks when Steve ducks his head, attempting to rub his sweaty hair on him. Bucky swats at him to stop. “Gross! Go take a shower, you heathen.” Steve relents and heads toward the bathroom, his laugh echoing down the hall. 

True to his word, Steve’s out of the shower ten minutes later. He grabs his bagel, leaning against the counter. 

Bucky shifts uncomfortably from where he’s seated across from Steve. Last night they’d been riding high on waves of emotion and instinct but now that they’re in the light of day, neither of them are really sure how to proceed. Bucky’s never had to deal with this kind of ‘morning after’ situation, even if all they did was kiss. 

He clears his throat. “Um, I should go.” 

Steve’s eyes widen and he struggles to swallow his bite of food. “Oh, okay.” Steve looks disappointed. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “I wasn’t really planning on staying last night and I have work later...” Bucky fails to mention that he doesn’t actually have work until four in the afternoon. He doesn’t really want to leave; there’s nothing waiting for him at home except a pile of dirty dishes, but he should probably take the time to fully process the last 24 hours. He doesn’t even come up with a better excuse, just starts looking around for his keys and shoes. 

Bucky can feel Steve’s eyes watching him as he moves around the room. He pointedly does not look in Steve’s direction. Things are awkward now and Bucky silently curses himself, wishing he hadn’t said anything at all or waited for a better opportunity to come up instead of just abruptly leaving.

“What do you have planned for today?” Bucky asks, focusing intently on doing up his laces. If he keeps talking maybe he won’t have to face the weird atmosphere he created. Steve doesn’t answer right away and Bucky is forced to look up since staring at your shoelaces after you’re finished tying them isn’t exactly the way to make things less awkward.

Steve shrugs. “Just a couple of errands. Nothing too exciting.” 

“Sounds fun.” He fights the urge to smack himself in the face and instead plasters on a smile that feels more like a grimace. 

“Anyway, I’m gonna head out…” He turns and reaches for the door but stops when he hears Steve call out to him. 

“Bucky,” Steve says and Bucky slowly turns back to face him. Gone is the slight frown Steve wore while watching Bucky putter around the room and in its place is a wry smile, as if he has finally figured out the Bucky is only leaving because he doesn’t know what else to do and finds it endearingly amusing. 

“I meant what I said last night,” Steve says, face open and true. Bucky just looks at him. There were a lot of things said last night and he  _ will not  _ embarrass himself further by presuming to know which moment Steve is talking about.The moment stretches out a while longer before the amused look returns to Steve’s face. 

“I want to date the hell out of you, Bucky Barnes.” 

Bucky’s whole body relaxes, the tension he’d been holding bleeding out of him. “Oh my god, please stop saying it like that you dork,” he laughs. 

Steve grins and moves towards him. “Why should I? It’s true,” he says simply. 

Bucky laughs again, shaking his head. He looks up at Steve, suddenly so much closer than he had been a minute ago and Bucky sucks in a breath. 

Steve’s looking at him, eyes searching his face and Bucky is struck by the realization that he could kiss him, is pretty sure that Steve is looking like that because he wants him to. But somehow the thought of kissing Steve in the broad daylight of the morning in the middle of the apartment is way scarier than it was kissing him on the couch the night before and instead Bucky wraps his arms around Steve, burying his face in his neck. 

If Steve’s disappointed, it doesn’t show. Bucky relaxes, the overwhelming feeling of  _ too much  _ falling away as warm arms hold him, squeezing gently. Steve drops a gentle kiss to Bucky’s temple which he feels all the way to his toes. He pulls away, hoping his face doesn’t look as embarrassed as he feels. Steve takes a step back and says, “Can I text you later?” 

“You’ve sure as hell never needed my permission to text me before.” Bucky gives him an unimpressed look. “Although sometimes I wish you did ask just so I can say no because I can never unsee some of the stupid ass shit you send me.”

“So, what I’m hearing is you want me to send you the most outrageous things I can find today, right?” Steve says with a cheeky grin. 

Bucky sighs. “I can’t stop you.” 

Still grinning, Steve says “I’ll text you later.” 

Bucky opens the door, finally making his exit but no longer feeling like he’s ruined this new fragile thing between them. He offers a small grin of his own. “I can’t wait.” 

-

For all the time that Bucky has spent worrying about finally being out and dating and being in a relationship he’s finding it startlingly easy. He had expected to feel some sort of seismic shift, a noticeable difference in the world after he finally admitted the truth to Steve but it’s been...pretty normal. Of course, it’s not what he usually considers normal now that he and Steve are  _ together, _ and what a thrill that is. Bucky gets a little shiver of excitement whenever he thinks about it, but it is much easier than he thought it would be. 

It helps that Steve is very enthusiastic about their budding romance. Bucky finds himself living out his wildest rom-com fantasies as Steve shows up unexpectedly with flowers, takes him to museums, kisses him at the top of the Wonder Wheel. It's new and exciting and half the time Bucky can’t believe that it’s actually happening. Of course, they don’t go out every night and Bucky finds himself enjoying more and more the nights where they don’t go anywhere at all, sitting close on the couch, talking and doing the same things they did before they started dating. 

Although, there is one thing that Steve doesn’t do. 

Bucky tries not to let it bother him. It doesn’t too much when they’re out and about. He’s never been a fan of those couples that are hanging all over each other, sucking face in public. But even when they’re alone together, Bucky wishes that Steve would touch him more. It surprises him, how much he thinks about laying on the couch with Steve, pressed close, Steve’s hands soft and soothing on his back. His heart kicks up a notch just thinking about it and he yearns for that closeness again. 

At first, Bucky just thought that maybe Steve just wasn’t as touchy feely as he thought. But Bucky notices the way that Steve claps Sam on the back after their runs, the way he doesn’t hesitate to pull Nat into a hug or give Clint a fist bump. Steve’s not shy with his hands and his touches are freely given, just not to Bucky. 

Steve has been keeping his distance.

Bucky lights up when Steve touches his arm to get his attention or lays a hand on his lower back as they walk through a crowd. But all too soon, Steve withdraws his hand and its comforting warmth, leaving Bucky cold and wondering why.

-

“Surprise!” 

“Bucky? What are you doing here?” 

Bucky quirks a brow. “Can’t a guy just drop by unannounced every once in a while? I brought snacks.” He holds up a bag full of microwave popcorn, candy and s’mores fixings. He may or may not have gone a little overboard with the treats. “I’ve also got a bunch of DVDs that I checked out of the library after work today. Movie night?” 

They’ve been officially dating for a couple weeks and while it’s been great, Steve’s been the one planning their dates and Bucky feels a little guilty. He doesn’t want Steve to think that he has to do all the heavy lifting. He’s little nervous about just dropping in like this, but Steve just smiles and waves him in. He deposits his snack bag on the counter, then opens up his backpack, pulling out half a dozen DVDs and his laptop. 

“I wasn’t really sure what we should watch so I grabbed a bunch of different ones. This one is one of my favorites, I’ll literally watch it anytime,” Bucky says holding up the disc. He points to a few others as he talks, “I think this one is supposed to be good, it's pretty popular? Oh! This is the newest one of those dumb superhero movies that are always coming out, but I have heard from multiple people that this one is the funniest. Anyway, if you don’t wanna watch any of those we also could just pull up something on Netflix.” 

“..and chill?”

Panic floods through Bucky’s system.  _ Oh my god, he can’t be serious.  _ They haven’t really talked about what happened on their first date but Bucky had kind of assumed that they had an unspoken agreement to take things slow. Bucky swallows, mouth suddenly dry.  _ Does Steve… _

But then he see the corner of Steve’s lips fighting back a smile, sees the teasing gleam in his eyes as he watches Bucky. Bucky’s jaw drops. 

“You  _ ass! _ ” Bucky throws a microwave popcorn package at Steve, openly laughing now, who smacks it aside easily. 

“That jokes old now anyway,” Bucky grumbles, not really angry more flustered by his reaction. 

Steve shakes his head. “A true meme never dies.” 

Bucky tries to look unimpressed but he can’t quite suppress the smile that threatens to break loose. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“You like it.” 

Bucky doesn’t say anything but turns away towards the couch, hiding his grin. 

He plops on the couch, watching Steve rifle through the snack bag. He watches as Steve starts looking through the film choices Bucky brought. 

Suddenly, Bucky jumps up and bounds back over to Steve, as eager as a puppy on his first walk. 

“I just had an idea,” Bucky says. 

It's a lie. He does have an idea, but he didn’t just come up with it. It's one that he’s been mulling over all afternoon, one that he hopes will work out in his favor. 

“Oh?” Steve says, clearly amused at Bucky’s enthusiasm. 

“We should build a pillow fort.” 

Bucky watches Steve’s brows shoot up. “A pillow fort.” 

“Yes.” When Steve still looks doubtful, Bucky pokes him in the ribs. “What’s the matter, Rogers? Never made a pillow fort before?” Steve’s face changes, something sad and lonely crossing his features and it's so out of place on Steve’s face that Bucky hurriedly attempts to move past it. 

“My little sisters would always pester me into making them and my sisters liked it so much that I became the designated fort builder for all of their sleepovers. Here.” Bucky shoves the various supplies at Steve. “You make the popcorn and pick a movie and I’ll make the fort. Trust me, it’ll be great.” 

Bucky doesn’t wait to see Steve’s reaction, just goes to collect various blankets and pillows that he’ll need. Pulling the cushions off the couch, he stands them up on the floor creating the walls of the fort. He can hear the sounds of the popcorn popping as he retrieves two of the high stools from the kitchen, places them at the end of his cushion walls and moves the coffee table. He dumps the pillows on the floor and drapes the large sheet he found across the back of the couch, the top of the cushions and the stools, then adds a few more sheets to make sure they’re completely covered.

He takes a step back, admiring his work so far when the microwave beeps. Turning around, Bucky sees that Steve isn’t in the kitchen anymore. He frowns, but carries on with the fort, crawling inside to arrange the pillows and the thick blankets into a comfortable little nest. Just as Bucky is crawling out of the fort, he hears footsteps coming from down the hall. 

Steve is staring at the new construction of couch pieces and sheets currently taking up most of the free space in his living room. Grinning, Bucky stands up. “Ta-da!” He gestures exuberantly to the fort behind him. “You like it?” 

Steve looks from Bucky to the fort, face unreadable. “It’s...something.” 

Bucky’s grin falters but he quickly swallows down the hurt. He takes a breath then says, “It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but inside is much better. C’mon.” He grabs his laptop to set up inside the fort but stops when he sees that Steve hasn’t moved and is still staring at the sheets sprawled across the room. 

“Steve?” HIs head twitches in Bucky’s direction like he wants to look but can’t bear to turn away from the fort. 

Bucky walks over to Steve and gently puts a hand on his back. “Steve, are you okay? I can take it down if you don’t like it, it’s no big deal.” 

Steve starts a little when Bucky touches him, like he wasn’t aware he was the close to him. He shakes his head, just a little gathering himself not rejecting the fort. 

“No, its — it’s good Buck, really.” Bucky raises his eyes. He’s skeptical but says nothing. “It’s super cool, I just zoned out for a minute. I promise I’m fine.” 

“Okay, if you say so,” Bucky says, not fully convinced. Steve still seems a bit off, but he won’t push the issue. “Why don’t you grab the snacks and the movies and I’ll finish setting up?” 

Steve nods and goes to do as Bucky says. Bucky watches him pour the popcorn into a bowl before heading into the mess of pillows and blankets, setting up his laptop for optimal viewing. He gets out and starts to turn off all but one of the lights around the room. It’s bright, but once they’re safely tucked away in the fort the light will look like a soft glow through the sheets, giving them enough light to see by while still being dark enough for movie watching. 

He clicks off the last light and Steve comes to stand next to him, bag of candy, bowl of popcorn and movies in hand. He smiles at Bucky, the strangeness from earlier mostly gone. There’s still some tightness in Steve’s smile and his eyes seem more distant than usual but Bucky just smiles back and goes into the tent, letting Steve pass him the things in his hand before following. 

Once inside, Steve seems to loosen up more, a genuine smile playing on his lips. He hands Bucky the superhero movie and gets himself settling among the blankets as Bucky queues up the movie. 

“All set?” Bucky asks, finger hovering over the play button. Steve looks around and then makes grabby hands at Bucky. “I will be once you hand me that popcorn.” Bucky does so and then starts the film, getting comfy next to Steve as the opening credits roll. Steve holds the popcorn high so that Bucky doesn’t dislodge it with his fidgeting. 

He pops one in his mouth, sighing blissfully. “Mmm. Popcorn is so good. It’s such a good snack.” 

Bucky looks at him sideways, watching Steve eat his popcorn. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so excited for a snack before.” 

Steve is unphased by Bucky’s teasing and merely tosses another kernel into his mouth. “Mm. I didn’t have much of a sweet tooth as a kid and we couldn’t really afford a lot of extra food, but popcorn was cheap and readily available and it became my favorite snack.” He tosses a piece in the air to try and catch it in his mouth but the roof of the fort isn’t high enough and it bounces off into Bucky’s lap. Steve flashes him a quick smile. “Some things you don’t grow out of.” 

They watch the movie, with more than a few interruptions because apparently Steve didn’t realize that he picked the fourth installment in a series and hasn’t seen any of the preceding films. He keeps asking Bucky who everyone is and what they are doing and why. Bucky doesn’t understand how Steve is enjoying the movie when he doesn’t seem to understand anything that’s happening, but he seems relaxed and laughs at the right times. 

The movie ends and they take a much needed bathroom break. Steve demolished the popcorn within the first half hour so Bucky pops in another bag. He searches around for a saucepan and starts to heat up some milk.

“Hot Coco?” Steve’s voice floats into the kitchen, full of childish hope. 

Bucky can’t help but smile. “Mhmm.” 

Steve reaches into a cabinet, pulling out the sugar and cocoa powder. “I hope you weren’t planning on using syrup because I will veto that immediately.” 

Bucky scoffs. “Oh, no. Syrup is for cold milk, cocoa is for hot. And those powder packets are okay in a pinch but if you use water, you’re a monster.” 

Steve nods, watching Bucky spoon in the cocoa and sugar, stirring slowly to prevent clumping. “Good. We’ve made it past the first relationship hurdle: hot chocolate preferences.” 

“I knew we could do it, baby,” Bucky quips. The endearment slips out and Bucky pretends not to notice the flush reddening Steves face. He doesn’t care much for cute pet names but he may have to reconsider, just to troll Steve into blushing at inappropriate times. 

Before long, the drinks are ready, poured into mugs and topped with mini marshmallows. Back in their linen fortress, Steve is busy pulling up the next cinematic masterpiece. Bucky hides a smile in his mug when he hears the familiar piano melody. Steve chose Bucky’s favorite movie as their next feature and Bucky tells himself that the warmth spreading through him is because of his beverage, but he knows it's not. 

Finished with his drink, he settles deeping into the blankets, scooching down so that he’s laying curled on the floor, head pushed up against Steve’s thigh. Beautifully animated landscapes dance across the screen and he closes his eyes just for a moment, letting the tranquility of the moment wash over him. 

The movie begins in earnest now, the soft soundtrack giving way to the sounds of a bustling city center. After another few minutes, Steve gives Bucky’s forehead a little tap. Bucky tilts his head to look. 

“I wanna re-adjust but I didn’t wanna jostle you too much,” Steve says quietly. This movie is less action heavy than the last and everything is much quieter without the sounds of constant fighting and explosions.

Bucky pushes himself halfway to sitting, waiting as Steve adjusts the pillows behind him and lays down fully, gesturing for Bucky to return to his previous position. He doesn’t quite fit the same and he can’t seem to get comfortable. Frowning, he sits up again. 

He pauses the movie, pointing to the other side of Steve. “Can we move the laptop over there?” 

Steve moves the laptop and then Bucky lays down again, this time with his head pillowed on Steves chest, arm across his body. “This okay? You comfortable?” He feels Steve nod and reaches over to resume the movie. 

Bucky is glad that he’s already seen this movie a bajillion times and doesn’t have to pay attention to what is happening on the screen. He can just enjoy cuddling with Steve in their little fort hidden away from the outside world, even if it’s just the rest of the apartment. At some point Steve’s hand find its way to his back and just rests there, the weight of it grounding Bucky in the moment. 

His head lifts a little with every rise and fall of Steve’s chest as he breathes, the blankets underneath him provide little protection from the hard floor. He has to readjust every so often to prevent his bones from being ground into a fine powder, but his heart stutters every time Steve’s fingers twitch on his back and if he could, he would stay here forever.

Steve runs his hands down Bucky’s side and Bucky jerks away reflexively. He closes his eyes, as if he can erase the moment from happening if he can’t see it. 

“Bucky,” Steve laughs. “Are you ticklish?”

“No,” he says, defensively. He’s upset that his body went and exposed him like that.  _ Calm down,  _ he tells himself.  _ It’s just Steve, he’s just touching us, this is what we wanted but not if you keep jumping like a skittish virgin.  _ The unhelpful voice responds,  _ but you are a skittish virgin _ . Bucky ignores it.

“I’m not ticklish, I just wasn’t expecting it.” He glares accusingly but with no heat behind it. “You caught me off guard.” 

“Sorry,” Steve says but he does little to hide his amusement. Slowly, Steve does it again and Bucky tenses, anticipating the contact. When his traitorous body twitches again, Bucky reluctantly admits defeat. “No, wait.” Steve withdraws his hand again. 

“Okay, maybe I’m a little ticklish,” Bucky grumbles while Steve chuckles softly.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me! How would I even know that? People don’t just go around tickling other people.” Steve purposefully lays his hands on him again, this time a little heavier so as to not be tickling but still soft and gentle. “Is this better?” 

“Mhmmm.” They lay like that for a while until Bucky’s dumb body strikes again.  _ Ugh. _

“Hey Steve? Can we pause for a minute?” 

“Yeah, sure. Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, my bladder just feels like it's about to explode.”    
  
Reluctantly, Bucky untangles himself from Steve and the mound of blankets and crawls out from under the sheets. His head swims as he stands and he blinks away the spots in his vision. Once he can see again, he takes a step forwards, stumbling when his wobbly legs feel like they’re about to give out.  _ What the hell?  _ He gingerly makes his way down the hall, one hand braced on the wall hoping that there are no more surprises. He shivers as his feet hit the cold tile of the bathroom floor. It’s much cooler outside the fort and being snuggled up with Steve for so long only makes it worse. 

Bucky does his business and catches sight of himself in the mirror on the way out. He frowns at his reflection. His hair is messy on one side from where he’s been laying on it, his eyes are glassy and his face is flushed and blotchy. He looks drunk.  _ Maybe I am drunk.  _ He rubs his eyes, thinking about how he almost fell over getting out of the fort. 

He splashes some cold water on his face, taking a deep breath before turning and flicking the lights off. 

“Feel better?” Steve says when Bucky makes his way back into the fort. He’s sitting up, looking at his phone, the screen illuminating his face in the darkness. 

Bucky looks around. “Is it darker in here?” The only lights inside are from Steve’s phone and the dimmed laptop screen, still paused. Bucky could have sworn there were more lights before...

“Yeah, it’s getting kinda late so I turned the lamp off, I hope you don’t mind.” Steve looks mildly worried, like Bucky is about to be upset with him for turning off the lights in his own living space. “I left the stove light on in the kitchen though so we wouldn’t be blind when we go out of the fort.”

“That’s fine. I was just making sure I wasn’t crazy.”  _ Or drunk _ . Bucky lays down on his stomach, cradling the pillow beneath his head. “Do you still wanna finish the movie. Or are you tired since it’s getting late?” 

Steve shakes his head. “No, I’m fine! Let’s finish the movie. I wanna get to the end so I can see why you like it so much,” he teases. 

Bucky rolls over just to glare. “Shut up, Steve. This movie is amazing.” He reaches over to turn it back on, but Steve stops him. 

“Actually, can we put the laptop on your side?” They shuffle around a bit, moving the computer and getting resituated. Steve lays back down, but this time on his side. His arm snakes around Bucky’s waist, making him jump just a little and Steve pulls him firmly against his chest. 

Bucky tries to suppress the shudder that rolls through him. His breath hitches and his whole body tenses. He concentrates on regulating his breathing and slowly relaxes into Steve’s hold. Hopefully Steve didn’t notice. 

“Buck?” 

_ Aw, shit.  _

“I’m ready. You can play the movie now.” 

Breathing a sigh of relief, he reaches over and clicks the button. Bucky sends up a silent thanks to the universe that Steve didn’t notice anything off. Bucky sighs again and Steve’s arm tightens around his middle, just a smidge. 

His hand joins Steve’s resting on his stomach and twines their fingers together. They were  _ spooning _ . They were spooning and Bucky didn’t know why, but somehow it seemed more intimate than anything else they had done.

He basks in it, soaking it up like a cat in a sunbeam. The flash of the movie is distracting and so he closes his eyes, ignoring every sensation that is not directly related to the way Steve is holding onto him, breath ruffling his hair. Time becomes irrelevant and so he can’t say for sure how long it's been, but at some point he is so content that he lets out a soft sound, something between a hum and a sigh and Bucky doesn’t even realize he’s making any noise until it's halfway out of him. 

It would be mortifying, except for the way that Steve snuggles in even closer. His thumb rubs soft circles into Bucky’s palm and he’s so punch drunk from the contact that his brain forgets to keep track of his mouth. 

“This is nice. I like it when you touch me.” Bucky whispers into the dark. He hadn’t noticed the movie ending. Doesn’t know how long it's been over, how long they’ve been curled together without the movie as a reason. Not that they should need one. 

“You should touch me more.”

There’s such a long moment of silence that follows that Bucky wonders if maybe Steve has fallen asleep. But then he feels a shift from behind him, Steve lifting his head a little to try and get a better look at Bucky’s face in the dark. Bucky’s first instinct is to keep looking straight ahead but he’s already made the first move. He can’t back down now. 

He unclasps their hands, gently moving Steve’s arm away just enough so that he can turn around so that now they’re face to face. He gently pulls Steve’s arm forwards letting it settle back on his body. There’s just enough glow from the computer to see the shadowy lines of Steve’s face.

“You touch everybody, all the time. You hug Nat and Sam, give Clint fist bumps and high-fives. You smack anyone who’s within reach when something is really funny.” Bucky pauses, biting his lip. “It just feels like you don’t touch me as often as you touch everyone else.” 

Steve makes a small, pained sound. He takes one of Bucky’s hands and holds it close to his chest. When he speaks again, it's hardly more than a whisper.

“I’m so afraid of messing up again. I made so many mistakes at the beginning. When I tried to kiss you that first time I didn’t think it through, just acted without any thought to how it might affect you. I’m glad we worked it out, but when you left-,”

“You mean when I ran away to the bathroom?” Bucky tries to joke, but he cringes at the memory. It’s still embarrassing to think about. 

“Yes,” Steve says, without a hint of mockery. “Now hush. I’m trying to be honest.” 

“You’re always honest,” Bucky says. It's true. Ever since they met, Steve always means what he says and says it when it needs to be said, consequences be damned. One of these days he’ll make sure to tell Steve just how much he admires him for it. 

Steve shakes his head. “I was scared that I had presumed too much, that you didn’t really wanna be there. Either way I was selfish and I hurt you. I didn’t want to make you that uncomfortable again and so I made sure not to do anything that I wasn’t sure wouldn’t upset you.” He reaches out and gently strokes Bucky’s cheek and Bucky doesn’t shy from it, instead moving closer. “Looks like I messed up anyway.”

Bucky’s breath hitches and he hates the way his voice is so small. “I didn’t realize how much I liked it until it didn’t happen again. I thought you just didn’t want to touch me, that maybe that night on the couch was just a fluke. Or that maybe you didn’t feel it like I did, that it wasn’t as big of a deal as I was making it out to be. But... I just want to be close to you.”

Steve eyes search Bucky’s face and there’s something in the way he draws his next breath that makes Bucky’s heart pound in anticipation and the moment stretches on between them, weighty and full. It feels like they’re balanced on a razors edge and one breath, one word will send them tumbling down one way or another. 

“ _ Bucky, of course I want to touch you,”  _ Steve whispers, reverently. “Being with you like this is incredible.”

Steve tightens his grip, pulling them impossibly closer. “You think you’re the only one affected by this? The only one who feels this way?” Steve unclasps their hands, opening Bucky’s so that his palm is pressed against his heart. Bucky can feel it beating, strong and fast and sure. 

“I don’t know about you, but I feel like my heart is too big for my chest, like there’s never enough air in my lungs, like none of my words come out right. Whenever we’re together I feel like I’m gonna vibrate right outta my skin and the only way to stop it is to get closer to you, to touch you.” 

Bucky’s hand is still pressed against Steve’s chest but Steve’s hands are wandering freely now, stroking Bucky’s sides, combing through his hair, caressing his face. Bucky can only close his eyes, relishing each touch, his whole body hot and tingling.  _ God,  _ he thinks briefly,  _ if cuddling feels this good I wonder what sex feels like. _ He files the thought away for later because he knows he’s not ready for that, but now it doesn’t seem like a complete impossibility. 

“It’s not just you,” Bucky breathes. “I feel it too.” 

Steve sucks in a breath, and Bucky becomes aware that while Steve’s hands are roaming Bucky’s body, his hands are still, pressed between their chests. His fingers twitch, eager to press into the flesh of Steve’s strong arms, to run along the muscles in his back, to touch so lightly that it gives Steve goosebumps, his soft skin transforming beneath Bucky’s fingertips. 

He wants to touch, not just be touched and so he does, keeping one hand still pressed to Steve’s chest, the heart beating beneath it stuttering as Bucky lets his other hand explore Steve’s body, returning Steve’s touches in kind. 

There are no more words, but they don’t need them anymore, their two bodies speaking to each other in the dark. They’re still clothed and neither makes a move to change that but hands dip beneath hems, pushing under shirts not asking for more just seeking flesh, warm and real and alive. Bucky feels exposed and vulnerable, but he’s not afraid of it, because Steve is here too and Bucky’s beginning to think that as long as Steve’s here with him, everything will turn out okay.

-

Bucky wakes slow, becoming aware that he’s awake but choosing to keep his eyes closed just a little longer. He feels the blankets rustling next to him and when he opens his eyes, he’s still in the blanket fort, Steve next to him using Bucky’s laptop. When Steve sees that he’s awake, he puts the laptop to the side, opting to lay back down next to Bucky. 

His hand rests awfully close to Bucky’s and Bucky slowly inches across the gap until their fingers meet and twine themselves together.

“Hmm, morning.” Bucky stretches and groans as his body aches from spending the night on the floor. “I can’t believe we slept in here.” 

“Yeah, we probably should have moved to the bed at some point.” 

Bucky groans in agreement, his body protesting as he twists to face Steve. “I hope you don’t mind that I slept over,” Bucky says, all too aware that the last time he stayed the night was also the first time he stayed the night and he made the next morning unbelievably awkward. He’s hoping to avoid that this time. 

Steve looks up at him from where he’s still laying down with a knowing look on his face, no doubt thinking the same thing. “Bucky,” he says. “I don’t mind. I didn’t mind last time either.” Bucky feels his face flush. “You can stay here anytime. You’re always welcome.” 

At any other time, coming from anyone else, Bucky would have written it off as a polite offer, made without any intention of following through, but after last night and with the way Steve’s looking at him, Bucky knows that Steve really means it. 

“So, I’ve been thinking...” 

“Uh-oh, that can’t be good,” Bucky teases. Steve rolls his eyes and pokes him in the side.

“Hey!” 

“Anyway, like I was saying I’ve been thinking,” 

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts. “How long have you been thinking? We just woke up.” 

“ _ You _ just woke up,” he says. “I have been awake for a while now.” 

“Oh my god, don’t tell me you went running already and then came back to watch me sleep? Don’t make it weird, Steve.” 

Steve laughs. “No, I texted Sam that I wasn’t gonna make it and then I went back to sleep. I was only awake for like 20 minutes before you, anyway. And, if you would let me finish my thought you would see that I’m trying to stop making it weird.”

Feeling appropriately chastised, Bucky says “You’re right. I’m sorry. Please go on.” 

“Thank you.” He lifts their joined hands, pressing a kiss to the back of Bucky’s. “I was thinking that maybe we should talk? About what we want from each other so that we don’t make any more wrong assumptions?” 

It’s a good idea, Bucky knows it is. All of their problems thus far have been caused my simple miscommunications and it's only been a couple of weeks. It makes sense that they should lay everything out, talk about it so that they can move forward without any more missteps. It makes nervous butterflies in his stomach anyway, because this is the hard part that he wishes he could avoid. Forever. 

While the circumstances certainly could have been better, Steve’s reaction to Bucky being ace went pretty well. He didn’t say any of the horrible things that Bucky had convinced himself that he’d say, and he still wanted to date Bucky anyway. And Steve had considered Bucky’s feelings so much that he actively stopped himself from doing something as simple as touching so that Bucky wouldn’t be uncomfortable. So there’s no evidence that Steve is going to be anything but sweet and understanding, but he worries anyway. 

“Yeah, that sounds fine.” He fiddles with Steve’s hand. “Right now?” 

“No time like the present,” Steve says with a half grimace, half smile, unsure of how his suggestion will be received. 

Bucky sighs. “Okay, but you have to go first.” 

Steve nods, a fair concession for making Bucky talk about his feelings before breakfast. 

“I want whatever you want.” 

_ Seriously? _ “Come on, Steve,” Bucky groans.

“What?” 

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” 

“Don’t coddle me!” Bucky snaps. “If we’re gonna do this, then I don’t want you to just say things like that because it's what you think I want.” 

“Well, what do you want?” 

“I don’t know, Steve! I like you and I like being with you, but other than that I don’t really know.” 

Bucky sits up, needing some distance from Steve while he works through this. Although it’s not a lot of distance considering they’re still in the fort. 

“But I do know that I don’t want you making some grand statement like that because you think you’ll be okay with waiting for me to make up my mind because that’s just setting yourself up for failure.” Bucky throws his hands up, exasperated. “You already held yourself back and that was just touching! I don’t want you to resent me because you get fed up with waiting.”

“Bucky,” Steve sits up across from Bucky, voice calm and measured, which only serves to make Bucky even more irritated. “You’re talking about sex, right? You think that I’m gonna get mad if you don’t have sex with me?” 

He stares at Steve, unwilling to believe that Steve is actually this dense. “Yes, Steve. Of course I am. What else would I be talking about?” 

“Bucky, I want you to listen to me.” Bucky raises his eyebrows, skeptical that whatever Steve is gonna say will negate anything he just said. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, not just this morning. I don’t care if we have sex.”

Bucky scoffs. “Don’t lie to me, Steve.” 

“No, really. I don’t care. Sex is like…” Steve stops, brows furrowed in concentration. Bucky can almost hear the gears turning as Steve searches for an acceptable comparison. Can see Steve’s eyes light up when he finally grasps the right words, which were apparently...

“Rock climbing?” Bucky says, skeptically. 

“Yes, just bear with me.” Steve says. Bucky still looks skeptical, but nods at Steve. “Sex is like rock climbing. Some people are obsessed. They do it every chance they get like they need it to breathe. Some people are like ‘yeah, rock climbing is super fun’ but they don’t go crazy over it. Some people have tried it and it’s fun, but not something they feel they need to do or think about very often. And some people didn’t like it and some don’t ever wanna try it. Which is fine.”

Bucky doesn’t roll his eyes, but it's a near thing.  _ He _ knows it's fine; it's everyone else he’s worried about.

“Bucky,” Steve says. “If you asked me if I wanted to go rock climbing with you, I’d say yes. Because rock climbing-”

“You mean sex,” Bucky interjects, one brow quirked. Steve looks miffed at the interruption but sighs and and continues on. “Okay, yes, sex. Sure, it’s fun, but if you tell me you never wanna have sex, I’d feel the same way as if you told me you never wanted to go rock climbing with me. Do you know how often I think about rock climbing?” 

“Steve,” Bucky pleads, “can we please stop using the rock climbing metaphor now? You can say the word sex. I’m not twelve.”

Steve huffs. “Fine. You know how often I think about sex just for the sake of sex? Hardly ever. I feel perfectly fine not having sex because there are so many things that are more important to me than rock climbing  _ or  _ sex. And at the top of that list is you.”

Bucky can scarcely breathe. 

These last few weeks with Steve had been wonderful, but there had always been that niggling little thought in the back of his mind that the whole no sex thing was going to be a deal breaker. That they’d become those friends who say “we dated once, but it just didn’t work out.” But somewhere in Steve’s absurd rock climbing sex monologue there had been a glimmer of hope that maybe this could work. Maybe Steve really won’t care that Bucky has never been in a sexual (or otherwise) relationship, that he may not ever want to have sex with him. He’d spent so long believing that it wasn’t possible that this small spark of hope feels like it’s burning a hole through his chest. 

“So,” Steve says, small smile playing at the edges of his mouth, waiting to break free, “If being with you means we never go rock climbing? I will happily give that up.”

He’s not crying dammit, he is not. His face is just wet and maybe his eyes are the source of the wetness and if he could just stop now that would be great, this is embarrassing enough without fucking crying. 

He presses his hands to his eyes, pressing hard enough to see spots. He takes deep breaths, trying to get enough oxygen for him to calm down, but they still come out a little shaky. Soft hands circle his wrists, pulling his hands away and Bucky blinks until Steve comes into focus in front of him. 

Steve’s smile is fond as he wipes away a stray tear. 

“I’m fine with whatever you want, Bucky. We can do as much or as little as you want,” Steve’s smile fades a little and he reaches for Bucky’s hand, giving it a little squeeze. “But I’m not a mind reader.” 

Bucky nods, because Steve is right. He has no way of knowing what Bucky’s limits are if he doesn’t tell him. The only problem is that Bucky isn’t even sure. 

He looks down at their hands and starts fiddling with Steve’s. It’s easier to think if he’s not distracted by Steve’s face. “It’s not that I’m against having sex, you know, I’ve thought about it.” His eyes flick to Steve’s, but his face is open and he’s listening intently. “But I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet…maybe we can work up to it?” Steve just nods and Bucky is grateful that he isn’t coddling him or showering him with reassurances. “And I don’t really know what I want or like-” 

“Well, we know some things,” Steve chimes in, eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Kissing is good, right?” Bucky smiles shyly. “And touching is good.” 

Steve waggles his fingers in Bucky’s hand, tickling his palm and sending light shivers up Bucky’s arm. “I think that’s a pretty good place to start.” 

Bucky nods, watching their hands twisting around each other. 

“I don’t want you to be walking on eggshells around me,” Bucky says. His eyes meet Steves. “I’m new to this, but I’m not some moron who doesn’t know anything. So,” Bucky hesitates, thinking it over, making sure he’s saying what he wants to say. “How about we just see what happens? You can stop being so cautious and worrying so much about me and if there’s anything that I don’t like or am nervous about, I’ll make sure to tell you and then we can deal with it together?” 

Steve doesn’t respond right away, mulling it over. “Okay,” he says, and Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Okay.” Bucky bites his lip to stop himself from smiling, but it’s not working too well. Especially not when Steve is moving closer, kissing him until he’s breathless. He lets himself be guided to the floor, Steve body hovering over his, head tilted back as Steve kisses down Bucky’s throat. He’s panting a little, Steve’s breath hot and sweet against his sensitive skin. Steve slowly lowers his body onto Bucky, laying almost completely on top of him, face nestled against neck. Bucky’s breathing eventually slows, matching Steve’s. Their chests move together as they inhale, pressed together like a single entity. 

Soon, they’ll have to actually get up. Start the day, take down the fort. Maybe Bucky can convince Steve to make them pancakes, maybe Steve will offer to walk Bucky home. But for now he lets himself enjoy this moment, nowhere else he’d rather be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen the canon timeline means nothing to me i just wanted to put a netflix and chill joke in there okay


	4. Chapter 4

“It’s open!” 

Bucky pushes open the door to Steve’s apartment and is greeted with the sweet smell of something baking. 

“Oh my god, it smells so good in here.” Bucky closes his eyes, inhaling deep. “What are you making and when can I eat it?” 

Laughing, Steve stands up from where he was crouched in front of the oven, with a steaming loaf pan in his oven mitt clad hands. “It’s banana bread and I just took it out of the oven, so you can try to eat it now, but I can guarantee that you will burn yourself.” 

Bucky pouts just a little as he toes off his shoes and dumps his jacket on the kitchen island. “Fine, I guess I’ll wait.” He makes his way around the island, and goes to wrap his arms around Steve, cold hands seeking warm skin. 

Startled by the shock of Bucky’s frigid fingers, Steve jumps. “Ahh, cold! Ow- Shit!” 

Bucky pulls away, frowning. “Are you okay?” Steve’s turns around so he’s facing Bucky, examining an angry red mark on his forearm. “Ooh, are you okay? That looks painful.” Bucky immediately feels guilty for sneaking up on Steve like that. 

Steve shakes his head. “It stings a bit, but it's not too bad. I just bumped into the hot pan. It’ll feel better once I put some honey on it.” 

“Honey?” Bucky looks skeptical but doesn’t say anything more as Steve maneuvers around his kitchen searching for the honey. 

He opens the cabinet and pulls out a plain jar, the golden liquid filling it up about halfway. Jar in hand, Steve turns back to Bucky and says, “Yeah. What do you use if you get burned?”

Bucky shrugs. “Toothpaste? I don’t know Steve, I usually try to not burn myself,” he teases. 

“Me neither, but more than once I bumped into a hot iron or open stove as a kid.” Steve says. He reaches under the sink and pulls out a small, white box with a red plus on the front. He rummages around in the first aid kit until he finds an appropriately sized bandage. “My ma used to keep an aloe plant and if it was a really bad burn she’d break a piece directly off the plant and rub it on my skin. But if it wasn’t so bad, then a drizzle of honey works just as well.” 

“Hm.” Bucky briefly glances around before turning back to Steve. “No aloe plant for you?” 

“I thought about it, but I’m worried that I’ll forget to water it and it will die.” Steve pours honey directly onto his arm, a big glob of honey slowly rolling down his arm away from the burn. Attempting to wipe off the runaway honey, Steve only succeeds in smearing the honey all over his arm and his hand. “Oh, great…” he mutters, licking honey off his hand. 

As amusing as it is to watch Steve make a mess of himself, Bucky can’t help but feel responsible for Steve’s injury and moves to help him. He grabs a rag hanging off the stove handle and wets it in the sink before he wipes the excess honey off of Steve’s arm. He takes the bandage from Steve and gently places the bandage over the inflamed skin, then lowers his head, giving it a little kiss. 

“There. All better.” Bucky smiles as Steve uses his unburned arm to draw him in, their bodies pressed close. “Thank you,” Steve murmurs, then kisses lowers his head to kiss Bucky sweetly, the taste of honey still lingering. 

Steve takes Bucky’s hand in his. “Bucky, I have something to tell you. I haven’t been completely honest with you and I hope you’ll forgive me for that. Now that we’re dating, I don’t want to feel like I’m lying to you and you deserve to know the truth.” 

Bucky is more than a little bewildered. It doesn’t escape him that Steve’s words echo some of his own thoughts and doubts about being in a relationship. He has no idea where this is coming from, but he gives Steve’s hand a squeeze and nods for him to continue. 

“I know that we started things a little rough.” 

Bucky snorts and rolls his eyes because wasn’t that just the understatement of the century. 

“And I know that it was hard for you,” Steve continues. “It was hard for me too, but honestly Bucky, I am amazed at how well you handled everything so far.” 

Bucky makes a face because he didn’t feel like he dealt with it well at all. He’d thought that Steve was being an insensitive asshole and then once he realized that wasn’t the case, he’d literally run away at the first sign of intimacy. But Steve keeps going, undeterred. 

“No, really Bucky. For you to tell me that you’re ace and to talk about the things you want. It must have taken so much courage for you to tell me and I am honored that you chose to tell me.” Steve untangles his hand from Bucky’s and cups his face with both hands and kisses him again, softly. Steve leans his forehead against Bucky’s and says, “You trusted me and know it's my turn to trust you. A secret for a secret.” 

Bucky frowns a little, pulling back just enough to get a good look at Steve. He brings his hands around Steves wrists, his hands still on Bucky’s face. “Steve, it’s not like that. It’s not an even exchange kind of thing, you don’t have to tell me any-” 

“I do, Bucky. I have to tell you this.” He takes his hands from Bucky’s face and Bucky slides his hands from where they were resting on Steves wrists to clasp his hands tightly. 

“Okay.” Bucky’s voice is quiet, giving Steve the space he needs to say whatever it is he needs to say.

Steve takes a deep breath, looks Bucky in the eyes and says. “My name is Steven Grant Rogers.” 

Bucky blinks at him.  _ That’s it? That’s Steve’s big reveal? That his middle name is Grant? _

“Steve. I know your name,” Bucky says. “Did you think I didn’t know your name this whole time?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, Bucky. You’re not understanding. I’m Steve Rogers. Like Captain America.” 

“Yes I know, Steve.” Bucky says, confused. “Didn’t we do this whole name game when we met? You were at the library checking out history books on WWII and I made a comment about your name when I swiped your card? It was really cheesy and awkward and I was sure that you were never gonna come back.” Bucky chuckles at the memory. 

“Do you know how many people were named Steve Rogers since 1945? An absurd amount. Steve was the most popular boys name until well into the 1970’s. And anyone with the last name Rogers obviously just seized the opportunity to name their kid after Captain America. He was the biggest war hero of the century.” 

“Bucky.” Steve is holding his hands very tightly. “You’re not understanding. I’m not named after Captain America. I am Captain America.” 

_ Wait. What?  _ Bucky takes a step back away from Steve, eyebrows drawn together. 

“I was born in 1918. I joined the army in 1941 despite a laundry list of health issues including asthma, scoliosis, being color blind and deaf in one ear, just to name a few. I was selected for Project Rebirth and given the super soldier serum created by Dr. Abraham Erskine in a vita-ray machine built by Howard Stark.”

Bucky speaks before he can continue. “That doesn’t prove anything Steve, except for that you are a massive nerd and have read nearly every book written about Captain America.” 

“Why do you think I read all those books?” 

Bucky shrugs, “I don’t know, because you’re really into history and Captain America?” 

Shaking his head Steve says, “No, Bucky. It's because I had finally decided to read for myself what other people had written about me.” There’s a hint of bitterness in Steve’s tone and Bucky frowns, wondering what it would be like to read his life story as written by someone who never knew him, decades after he’d been alive. He imagines it would be unbearably frustrating and riddled with inaccuracies. He almost feels bad for Steve, except for the fact that  _ it's not possible.  _

Bucky shakes his head, pulling his hands away from Steve’s, ignoring the look of hurt that flashes across Steve’s face. “Steve, are you okay?” Bucky says, wondering what Steve hit his head on and if he needs to take him to a hospital. He reaches out to place his hand on Steve’s forehead, checking for a fever. “This is absurd. You’re not Captain America.” 

“I am.” Steve captures Bucky’s hand as he’s checking for bumps or bruises, something, anything to indicate why Steve is suddenly delusional. “Bucky, stop. I’m not ill. I haven’t been since 1941.” Sensing Bucky’s disbelief, Steve tries a different tactic. 

“Bucky. Please. I know this sounds insane, but I am asking you to trust me. Have I ever lied to you before?” 

“No, but…”  _ It's not like I would know if you had.  _ Bucky pushes the thought away.

“I am Captain America.” Steve looks at Bucky earnestly, like he can will Bucky to believe him if he tries hard enough. 

Bucky looks directly at Steve. He trusts Steve,  _ he does _ . It's not that he thinks that Steve would ever intentionally lie to him but this is something beyond trust and lies. This is more like fact and fiction.

“No, you’re not,” Bucky says. “Steve, you- you can’t be. Captain America died. In the ‘40’s.” 

Steve rubs his face with his hands, clearly as exasperated with Bucky as Bucky is with him.“No, Bucky. I crashed into the Arctic, but I didn’t die.” 

“That’s not possible. There’s no way anyone could have survived that.”

Steve pleads, “I know it sounds crazy, but with the serum-”

A thought occurs to Bucky, a perfect loophole in Steve’s story. “And if you were Captain America, you’d be like 90 years old or something!” Bucky laughs, mild hysteria setting in. “What, were you just perfectly preserved in the ice and then someone found you and was like ‘oh yeah let’s just thaw him out and see what happens’?” 

At that, Steve remains suspiciously silent. Up until now, Steve has countered all of Bucky’s protests and his sudden lack of a response makes Bucky stop short. He uses the silence to reassess the last ten minutes of his life. 

He thinks back to what the last few weeks have been like between him and Steve. They’ve been seeing each other regularly ever since Bucky told Steve he was ace and Bucky has enjoyed every moment of it. They’ve been able to explore their new relationship together and it's more than Bucky could have ever expected.  _ I don’t want to feel like I’m lying to you. _ That’s what Steve said and isn’t that exactly why Bucky had worried so much over dating Steve? That he’d feel like a fraud? And so he’d laid himself bare for Steve not knowing how he would react...just like Steve is doing now. 

It’s outrageous, Bucky knows it is. His Steve? Captain America? Here and now, in the flesh? It’s crazy, the idea that someone would be able to withstand being frozen for seventy years.  _ But,  _ the little voice in his head chimes in,  _ is it really any crazier than believing that injecting someone with a serum to give them superpowers? _ Bucky had accepted that as fact pretty easily. Suddenly, Steve’s story about being frozen in the Arctic doesn't seem so far fetched. 

Bucky’s eyes grow wide, “Oh, my god. No. Really?”

Steve looks away embarrassed, as if he had any control over the circumstances surrounding his revival. “Yeah, pretty much. I was found by a team doing research up in the Arctic Circle. They found the plane half buried in the ice and called it in. Another team came to cut into the plane to see what was inside and they found me.” 

Bucky gapes at Steve, trying to fully process the fact that Steve is sitting in front of him casually telling him that not only is he Captain America, but that he had been cut out of a plane that was  _ frozen in the Arctic Circle.  _ Steve is clearly anxious, fingers toying with the edges of the bandage on his forearm. 

Bucky’s eye’s zero in on Steve’s arm.  _ Wait a second. The burn...if Steve really is Cap...  _ He reaches out and grabs Steve’s arm. Bucky handles his arm so that the bandage is facing upwards. Steve holds himself still as a statue as Bucky slowly peels the adhesive away from Steve’s skin revealing pale, unmarked skin. There’s no burn. 

Bucky’s breath catches in his throat. “Oh my god,” he breathes. His hand shakes as he reaches out to touch the skin that had been red and burned only half an hour ago. 

“You see? I heal fast because of the serum. I’m not lying to you, Bucky.” 

_ Wait. _ “Steven.” He gives Steve a hard look. “You did not intentionally burn yourself so that you could prove to me that you have the super soldier serum.” He realizes how absurd it sounds even as the words are coming out of his mouth.

“Yes, Bucky,” Steve deadpans. “I wanted you to startle me with your frozen hands just so that I could burn myself. I orchestrated the whole thing just to prove to you I heal fast.” 

Okay, so he deserved that. “Hey, cut me some slack,” Bucky says, gently smacking Steve. “I just found out my boyf — uh, ah — that you are a super jacked war hero straight out of the pages of my high school history book. I need some time to adjust.” 

Bucky prays that Steve is too distracted to notice that Bucky almost called him his boyfriend. They haven’t had that particular discussion yet and although that’s how Bucky has been privately referring to Steve, now doesn’t seem like a good time. 

“Take all the time you need Bucky,” Steve says in an eerie echo of their conversation when Steve had put himself out there, asking Bucky on a proper date. That night Bucky had left Steve hanging in limbo, uncertain of the future while Bucky wrestled with his own fears. But not this time. This time Bucky is sure of himself and sure of Steve and he wasn’t gonna let Steve doubt him again. 

“Hey,” Bucky says softly. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s just gonna take me some time to get used to you being  _ Captain fucking America. _ ” He shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But this is not going to push me away. Okay?” Steve nods and Bucky pulls him close and he can feel Steve relax into the embrace, tension draining as the enormity of Steve’s confession settles upon them. 

Despite Steve’s fears, Bucky knows that he’s not going to change how he feels. This is still the same Steve who doesn’t like sugar in his coffee or pineapple on pizza. The same Steve who sends him absurd facebook posts at all hours. 

Bucky breaks the hug to pull back and look at Steve. 

Bucky squints suspiciously. “If you’re really from the 40’s how are you so good at technology?” 

Steve laughs. “It’s not that hard, Bucky.” 

“But, you send me memes!” Bucky protests.

“Yeah, I do. I’m not actually that old. And,” Steve says, rubbing his neck and avoiding Bucky’s eye. “I’ve had a couple years to play catch up.”

“A couple of years?” He’s been friends with Steve for about a year and before that Steve had been a regular at the library... “Wait, Steve when did they find you?” 

“Three years ago.” 

Bucky gapes at him. “Three years ago!? You’ve just been walking around in the 21st century for three years?”

“Well, yeah. I hadn’t been awake for that long before we met. What did you think, I — ” A loud gurgling sound cuts off Steve’s response. Amusement creeps into Steve’s voice and he’s not even bothering to hide it, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. “Was that  _ you _ ?” 

Mortified, Bucky hugs his middle, muttering accusingly to his stomach, “Oh my god, can you not?” He gives a half grimace and says, “I think maybe I forgot to eat today.” 

“Bucky!” 

“I know, I know!” Bucky been lectured enough times about how important it is to eat his three square meals, but sometimes it just slips his mind. “I was busy doing other things!”

Steve shakes his head. “I’ll never understand how you can just forget to eat.” 

“Well, I just don’t understand how you can eat so much breakfast right after you wake up, so I guess we’re even.” 

Steve only gives a half laugh at that as he fiddles with the abandoned burn bandage that’s been sitting abandoned on the couch with them. 

“Wait a minute,” Something clicks in Bucky’s head. “Since you have the serum, isn’t your metabolism like super high? Don’t you need like 9,000 calories a day or something? You eat normal amounts of food when I see you.”

Steve looks embarrassed. “I usually go home and eat again after seeing you.” 

“Steve!” Bucky chastises, mimicking Steve’s earlier tone. 

Steve shrugs, like having to consume three times the amount of the average human is no big deal. “No one is supposed to know that I’m alive! And eating three entrees at a restaurant would probably turn some heads and cause unwanted attention.” 

And Steve has the nerve to lecture him about self care. Unbelievable. “I guess we better order some food then,” Bucky says, definitively. 

Steve is thrown by the abrupt change in Bucky’s tone. “What? Now?”

“Yes, now.” Bucky says. “You’re probably hungry and I could use some comfort food right about now.” He can’t help the goofy grin spreading across his face. “Maybe it’ll help me  _ digest _ the fact that you’re Captain America.” 

“Oh no,” Steve groans. “Bucky, that was awful.” 

“Aw, c'mon. Admit it, it was a little funny.” 

Still grinning at his own joke, Bucky reaches for his phone to order food, but Steve grabs his hand to stop him. Bucky looks up questioningly and Steve just holds his hand tighter. 

“Bucky. Are you okay?” Bucky frowns a little, but Steve keeps going. “I mean, I just told you that I’m Captain America. You just saw me burn and heal myself within like twenty minutes. And now you want to order me food because you’re worried that I’m not eating enough?” 

“Yes.” Bucky says. “Steve, look. I know that this is crazy, but I believe you.” Cupping Steve’s face in his hands, he sees the worry in Steve’s eyes and he gazes at Steve, pouring all of his belief into the look hoping to extinguish any trace of doubt that Steve has left. “You’re Captain America,” Bucky breathes, like he’s afraid to say it too loud or else it might not be true. It’s not a question, but Steve nods anyway, hindered a bit by Bucky’s hands still on his face.

“You’re Captain America,” Bucky repeats. “But you were my Steve first — ” Steve’s breath hitches, but Bucky continues on. “And my Steve is going to help me order some food to eat because it’s late and we’re both hungry,” Bucky gives Steve a pointed look and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Bucky, can you let go of my face now?” 

“Annnd then,” Bucky says, completely ignoring Steve’s request, “We are gonna eat an outrageous amount of food, put something mindless on the T.V. and you’re gonna answer all the ridiculous questions I have about you being an actual superhero. Okay?” 

Steve nods and Bucky gently smooshes Steve’s face in his hands before he lets go. Steve catches one of his hands and pulls him back for a sweet kiss, rubbing their noses together and nuzzling a little against his cheek. 

“Thank you, Bucky.” Steve whispers. 

-

“So, uh, boyfriend?” 

“What?” Bucky looks up from his phone where he’s been tracking their food order (ETA 40 minutes). 

“Oh, well. Um, earlier you said, well it sounded like you were about to call me your, um, your boyfriend?” It comes out like a question like he’s not sure that’s he’s got it right, and Steve rubs his neck while looking at Bucky but avoiding direct eye contact. 

It takes a moment for Bucky to fully process what he’s said because he’s too busy marvelling at the fact that no less than an hour ago Steve, with total confidence and a self assurance that Bucky can’t even dream of, managed to look Bucky in the eye and tell him that he was a literal piece of history, but when asking about their relationship status, suddenly forgot how to talk. 

“Oh.” Steve’s words catch up with Bucky’s brain. Guess they are gonna have this discussion after all. “Yeah, well. What else am I supposed to call you?” He gives a half shrug and a lopsided smile as if defining their relationship isn’t something he’s thought about at all, even though he definitely has. Often. 

“It’s mostly just been in my head,” Bucky says, “because I didn’t know if, like, you ask before you start saying it or if you just go for it and I didn’t want to presume because  _ that  _ would be fucking embarrassing, but I’m just thrown by the whole Captain America thing and so it kind of slipped out.” Bucky winces. “I was hoping you didn’t notice.” 

Steve smiles and of course, now that Bucky blabbering on like a fool, awkward Steve is gone and replaced with regular Steve, making it seem like Bucky is the only one making a fool of themself. 

“I have a near perfect memory, Bucky.” When Bucky looks at him like  _ how?  _ Steve elaborates. “The serum, Buck.” He says it gently, like how you’d handle an infant so as to not startle them.

Oh. Right. Wow, okay. Now Bucky wants to hide in a hole because if he can remember all the embarrassing things he’s done around Steve, the knowledge that Steve probably not only remembers it all, but probably with stunning high-def clarity does not make him feel any better. 

“Boyfriend is fine.” Steve’s words bring him back to the matter at hand. 

“Yeah?” Bucky says, relieved. He didn’t really think that Steve would object, but it’s still nice to know he didn’t fuck up this time. 

“Mhm,” Steve comes up behind Bucky, arms around his waist, chin on his shoulder. “We could be boyfriends.” Steve’s words tickle Bucky’s ear and sends a shiver down his spine. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says again, coherent thought apparently too much at the moment. 

Steve nods. “Yes, Bucky. I already told you. I want to be with you and I want us to be honest with each other.” 

He steps around so that they’re facing each other, but keeps his hands on Bucky’s waist. “So,” he says teasingly, playful gleam in his eye. “Are you ready to be boyfriends with Captain America?” 

Bucky’s eyes grow comically wide. It’s not at all what he’d expected Steve to say and the sheer absurdity of those particular words strung together like that combined with the absolute truth of the question is outrageous. Steve is Captain America. Steve wants him to be his boyfriend, officially. Bucky’s boyfriend is Captain America. This is Bucky’s new reality. 

A slightly hysterical laugh bubbles out of him and he doesn’t take his eyes off Steve as he says, “Ready when you are, Captain,” complete with an awful, exaggerated salute and Steve laughs loud and bright before kissing him, and as long as Steve keeps laughing and kissing him like that Bucky thinks he’s gonna like this new reality much better than the old one.

-

Over the next few weeks, their relationship changes. While it hadn’t been bad before, they’d both been carrying the weight of their own fears and doubts with them. But now there are no more secrets between them. It’s better than anything Bucky could have ever dreamed of. He still hangs out with Nat and Clint, and he’s been seeing Sam more often, mostly because he spends a lot of time at Steve’s. He goes out more, not a lot more, but being dragged out of the house to go out with friends is a lot more fun when Steve is the one doing the dragging. 

Bucky questions Steve endlessly about being Captain America. 

“Can you really lift a car?” Bucky asks, that first night as they eat copious amounts of Chinese takeout. 

Steve thinks for a moment. “Yeah, probably,” he says. 

“Probably?” Bucky asks. 

“Well, I did a bunch of tests and stuff before they sent me overseas, but right after I got the serum I, uh, I accidentally ripped the door of a car.” Steve laughs at Bucky's wide eyed expression. “Used it as my first shield, actually. But I’m pretty sure I can lift a car. I’ve thrown my motorcycle a few times pretty easily, so if it’s a small car I can probably lift it without hurting myself.” 

Bucky would feel bad about being a nuisance, but Steve seems to appreciate being able to talk about his experiences with someone.

They’re at the laundromat down the street, Bucky doing the actual washing with Steve there for moral support, when out of the blue Steve says, “You know, back in my day laundry was such a process that we dedicated a whole day to it.”

Bucky looks up from where he’s carefully measuring out his detergent. In response to Bucky’s incessant questions, or maybe just because he’s a jerk Steve has started using “back in my day” all the time and only about half of what follows is actually true. The first time he said it, he almost had Bucky convinced that he was forced to listen to the radio in the dark because there was only one electrical outlet. 

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Oh, really? Did you also have to go down to the river and use rocks and chestnuts instead of soap?” 

Steve laughs, knowing full well why Bucky is being so salty. 

“Cross my heart,” he says. Bucky goes back to his washing machine, mostly convinced Steve was telling the truth. “Mondays were washing day. Our building had a washroom downstairs and I remember my ma used to let me grate the soap.” 

“Grate the soap?” Bucky asks, incredulously. “Like, with a cheese grater?” 

“Yep. Soap was cheaper if you bought it in bar form, but the soap flakes were better to wash with. So we’d buy the bar and then it would be my job to grate it into flakes,” Steve explains. “I couldn't really help that much with the washing because it would get so hot and damp in the washroom, I couldn’t really breathe down there.” 

Bucky frowns. It’s hard for him sometimes, to remember that Steve used to be small and sick. It’s much easier for him to imagine Steve throwing cars and punching Nazis than it is to picture Steve unable to do something so simple like help with the laundry because his body wouldn’t let him. Steve’s made peace with it now, or so he claims. Sometimes, Bucky will catch him hunching his shoulders or rubbing his chest and he can’t help but wonder if Steve feels like he’s still that scrawny kid.

As if sensing Bucky's melancholy on his behalf, strong arms come around his waist, Steve’s bony chin finding its way to Bucky’s shoulder. “I like doing laundry in this century much better.” Steve says. “Especially if I get to do it with you.” Bucky can’t help the goofy smile that creeps onto his face whenever Steve says something particularly sappy like that. 

Steve gives him a quick peck on the cheek before saying, “Although, it’d be a lot nicer if we did it somewhere else.” He looks around at the dingy laundromat and releases his hold on Bucky. “You do know I have my own washer and dryer, right?” 

Bucky shakes his head. “Wait really? Where?” Bucky’s been in Steve’s apartment enough times that he should have seen a washing machine by now. 

“It’s in the closet next to the bathroom.” 

“Huh.” He knows which closet Steve means, but he’s always assumed that it was just a linen closet and never bothered to look. “You should just do your laundry at my place next time,” Steve says. “It’ll save you some quarters, at least.”

“Hmm,” Bucky pretends to contemplate. “Only if you promise to help me fold.” 

Steve’s hand finds his hip and pulls him closer. His eyes are sparkling. “I think I can handle that.” 

-

“How’re things with you and loverboy?” 

Bucky looks up from his computer to where Natasha is sitting on his floor leaving wood shavings all over the place. She’d walked in with a block of wood and told him that she needed to work on her knife skills and is now attempting to carve something. Bucky has learned long ago not to ask about the strange things Natasha does because the answers will either be unsatisfying or even more confusing than whatever it is she’s doing. All Bucky really cares about is who is going to clean up all these goddamn bits of wood off his floor. 

“Who, Steve?”

Natasha pauses her whittling to give him a flat look. “No, your other boyfriend.” 

“Why don’t you just ask him when we see him later?” They’re at Bucky’s waiting for Clint to be done with work and then the three of them are going to meet up with Sam and Steve to see some absurd movie. Something about a bunch of friends that play tag at a wedding? He’s not really sure what they’re going to see but Clint had insisted they all see it together.

“Because I’m asking you, now.” She raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“He’s good, I guess. Same as always.”

“And you?” Natasha returns to her whittling, but keeps one eye on Bucky, which seems unsafe considering she is holding a very sharp knife. 

“I’m fine. Nothing has really changed since we talked last week.” 

She hums like she doesn’t quite believe him. 

Bucky sighs. “We’re good, Nat. Really. Things are going great.” 

She hums again, more satisfied with his answer this time. 

“You get naked with him yet?” 

“Natasha!” Bucky cries, scandalized. 

“What?” She looks unaffected by Bucky’s response. “You’re ace Bucky, not dead. Just because you’re not attracted to him doesn’t mean you can’t have sex with him, or that you won’t want to have sex with him. You’re only human. And don’t try to lie about it, I know you’ve got a stash of sex toys.” 

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. When he’s with Steve all of his worries and fears fade away and it becomes easier to imagine things going further, but removed from the situation, like right now his anxieties take center stage. 

“No, Nat I did not ‘get naked with him’ yet.” 

“But you want to?” She asks, no judgement in her voice, just an honest inquiry. 

Bucky sighs because he always feels so stupid talking about these things out loud, but as much as he dislikes it, he can’t deny that he always feels better after talking to Natasha, if a little emotionally drained. 

“Maybe?” Bucky says, trying to find the right way to phrase how he feels. “When I’m with Steve it's easier to imagine having sex and it's a lot less...abstract? Honestly, I don’t know what I want but we’ve already talked about it and we’re just gonna see how things happen.”

He sighs. “And I’m sick of being worried about it all the time. If Steve does decide to leave me over it, then fuck him.” 

“But not literally?” Natasha smirks. Bucky just laughs. “Well, you just make sure that he doesn’t get too handsy, if that’s not what you want.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “C’mon Nat, this is Steve we’re talking about. He wouldn’t do that and besides he’s like from the thir-” Bucky stops talking, abruptly realizing that the next word out of his mouth was going to be “thirties” while simultaneously realizing that he absolutely cannot finish that statement out loud because Natasha has no idea who Steve actually is and proclaiming out loud that his boyfriend is from the early half of last century is a very bad idea. 

Bucky starts coughing, dramatically, loud hacking coughs that he draws out for just long enough to think of some sort of cover up. 

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks when he’s done fake coughing. She’s got a brow arched like she’s onto him but not quite sure why.

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky says, fully recovered now. “I was just saying that Steve’s not like all those other thirsty dudes out there, so you don’t have to worry about him taking advantage of me or whatever.” 

He shoots her a wide smile and her eyes narrow. She may not be buying it, but she’s not pressing either, so Bucky counts it as a win. 

“You know if he hurts you, I’ll kill him, right? I know how to kill a man with just my thighs.” 

“Jesus, Natasha!” 

Nat shrugs, returning to her woodcrafting. “I’m just doing my due diligence. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t make sure that your new man wasn’t doing anything untowards towards you by threatening him with bodily harm?”

“A normal one,” Bucky mutters under his breath. 

“What was that?” She asks, though Bucky’s ninety percent sure she heard him anyway. 

“Nothing!” He checks his phone for the time, then changes the subject. “When’s Clint supposed to get here, again?” 

Nat checks her own phone. “Should be soon, but that’s assuming that he hasn’t tripped over his own shoelaces down the stairs or something.” 

Bucky laughs, because that is exactly something that Clint would do. 

“You seem happier,” Natasha says after a moment. She keeps going before Bucky can say anything in response. “I love you Bucky, you know that right?” A little bit blindsighted by Natasha’s diversion from their previous conversation, he nods. 

“I haven’t seen you be this happy in a long time.” It’s true. He’d been in a funk, the constant grind of adult life wearing him down little by little. “There are a lot of shitty things in the world and everyone deserve to have something that makes the shitty things bearable.” She looks at him thoughtfully.

“Steve makes things better, doesn’t he?” 

“Yeah, Nat.” He says quietly, voice tight with emotion. “I feel so much better when he’s around. He just- he makes me happy. And I think I make him happy too,” he finishes with a small shrug. 

Nat nods once, curt. “Good. Well, then I’m glad you found each other.”

He hadn’t been looking for Natasha’s approval, wouldn’t have even considered that he would have needed it, especially since she was the one who pushed him to go out with Steve in the first place, but to hear her say it warms his heart. He knows that she cares about him, but it’s still nice to hear from time to time. 

“Thanks, Natasha. I love you, too.” 

“That’s gross, Barnes.” 

He rolls his eyes. Natasha is not one for gratuitous sentimentality, so it’s unsurprising that as soon as the moment was over she’d immediately revert back to her heart of steel persona, even though deep down Bucky knows she’s a real softie. 

Bucky’s phone beeps with a text. “Clint says, he’s downstairs but doesn't wanna come up because and I quote ‘I don’t wanna leave pizza dog all by himself.’” He looks up at Natasha. “What is a pizza dog? Is it a real dog?” 

Nat just shrugs. “Let’s go find out.” She pops up from the floor, brushing debris of her clothes. 

“I told him we’ll be down in ten minutes.” 

“Ten minutes?”

“Yeah, so you can have time to clean all this shit off my floor.” 

“Do you really trust Clint by himself with what may or may not be a living, breathing animal?” 

Bucky glares at her. “I trust him not to kill a hypothetical dog more than I trust you to clean my floors without having to tell you to.” 

She stares at him for a long moment, before her eyes flick towards the door. Bucky is still on the couch and she has a clear path. Bucky figures out what she’s about to do just a second too late. 

“Don’t you fucking dare. Natasha I swear to god-” She makes a dash for the door and Bucky launches himself off the couch, nearly falling face first on the floor trying to catch her. 

“Natasha!” 

The only response he gets is the BANG of his door bouncing off the wall, swinging on its hinges and the echoes of Natasha’s maniacal laughter as she makes her escape. 

-

“Hey, Steve?”

Bucky is lounging on Steve’s couch, having taken Steve up on his offer to use his washer and dryer. Steve sits in the armchair across from him, sketchbook open on his lap. Bucky’s got a sneaking suspicion that Steve is drawing him but he doesn’t mention it.

“Hm?” 

“What do you do all day?”

“What do you mean?” Steve doesn’t look up from his drawing. 

“Well, you’ve mentioned work a few times. Like when we went to that hipster nightmare you said a coworker recommended it to you.” Steve nods. “But that was before I knew who you were. And unless the government gave you a new social security number or something all your documents would have your birthdate as 1901 or whenever. So, like do you have a day job and you have fake documents or did you just make that up to sound normal?” 

Bucky is just teasing with that last part, but he is genuinely curious. He’s been thinking about it for a while, exactly what Steve does to fill his days, how he managed to build a life that even resembles normal after his return. 

Steve has stopped drawing now. He closes the sketchbook, placing it on the arm of the chair. “Okay, first of all,” he says. “I was born in 1918, you jerk. I’m not  _ that _ old.” 

Bucky raises his brows and shrugs. “Whatever you say, grandpa.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “To answer your question, no. I don’t have a day job. You’re right, all my documents still have my actual information on it, which would make it difficult to explain if I attempted to get a job. Although, I don’t even have access to any of my original documents. If I had to guess they’re probably in some museum right now or locked away in a vault somewhere.”

“You don’t even have your papers?” Bucky asks, frowning when Steve nods. “But they’re yours!” 

“The United States government doesn’t care much what’s yours when you’ve been officially deceased for over 50 years.” Steve sighs, suddenly looking weary. “I didn’t have any family when I crashed and I was a soldier. All that I had officially became property of the military.”

“But what about when you came back?” Bucky presses. “Didn’t they give any of it back? You’re obviously not dead now. Isn’t that what happens when they find people who were MIA or presumed dead? They give them a medal or something and return their belongings?” 

Steve shakes his head. “That might be true if you’ve only been missing for a few months or a year.” He attempts a smile, but it’s tinged with something else. Sadness, maybe. Or bitterness. “There’s not exactly a precedent for what happened to me.” 

Bucky thinks on that for a long moment. He debates for a moment before asking, “So, what exactly did happen when you came back?” When he sees Steve’s eyes harden, he hastily adds, “Legally, I mean.” 

Face serious and voice flat, Steve says, “They took me out of the ice and essentially told me to ‘assimilate into modern American culture while operating under the assumption that you are on mission standby until further notice.’” Steve’s face softens a bit when he sees Bucky struggling to keep up. “Essentially, it means that I can live my life but if they ever need me for anything they reserve the right to call me back,” he translates. 

“Wait,” Bucky says, eyes wide with disbelief. “So they just dropped you into the 21st century by yourself  _ and _ they can just call you back whenever they want? That’s so fucked up Steve. Haven’t you done enough? Why can’t they just let you live your life, for fucks sake?” 

Steve smiles at Bucky’s indignance on his behalf. “It’s a lot better than what they wanted initially. Project Rebirth was a military operation and they claimed that the serum was government property, even though Erskine was a civilian scientist. So they tried to argue that since I was in possession of the serum I was also property of the U.S. military.”

“They thought they OWNED you?” Bucky says, horrified. “Jesus, Steve. What the fuck. You’re a human being, not a goddamn object. Fucking bullshit government,” he mutters angrily. 

“Yeah, let’s just say it was a less than ideal situation. They wanted me to go right back into active duty, but I fought them on that. When SHIELD stepped in, they backed off and agreed to use call me in under extreme circumstances.” 

“Shield?” It sounds familiar and Bucky vaguely recalls that they’re somehow a part of the government but other than that he has no idea what they do. 

“They’re sort of like an extra-legal branch of the government, from what I understand.”

Well, that cleared things right up. Clear as mud. “Extra-legal?” 

“They work with Homeland Security and the Military, but they seem to have free reign.” Steve frowns a bit. “I don’t know who they report to or who oversees them. They were created after the war.” He looks up at Bucky. “They advocated for me when I first came out of the ice and I’m grateful for that, but I don’t know if I trust them.” 

Steve stops talking then and Bucky is saved from answering by a loud buzzing sound. 

Bucky gets up to switch his laundry, stealing a passing glance at Steve as he goes. He’s not exactly glowering, but his mouth is downturned in the beginnings of a scowl. 

Bucky is on autopilot as he moves his clothes from the washer to the dryer. 

He’d never really thought about the logistics of Steve being Captain America before. Logically he knew that it had to have been a big process, returning Steve from the dead. Lots of paperwork, probably. But it had all been glossed over in Bucky’s mind, something that he acknowledged as truth but without much thought to the particulars. 

He thinks back to Steve’s face. How terrible must it have been for Steve to be on edge just at the thought of it? Bucky tries to imagine if he woke up one day and suddenly he was in a new place surrounded by strangers. It’s easy for him to forget that what he considers old news was just a few years ago for Steve.

And then to be told that you’re nothing more than a piece of government property! He imagines Steve, still in shock, barely comprehending as these fuckers with suits and official badges try to take away the only thing he’s got left. What kind of good for nothing assho-

“Oh, shit.” Bucky fumbles with the laundry detergent, sending the little cup flying over the back of the machine. Sighing, Bucky gets down on his knees, attempting to crawl behind the machine to retrieve the cup. Steve must use the other half of this closet as storage because Bucky has to fight his way past blankets and old coats to get behind the washer. Attempting to push the pile away, he shoves at it with his shoulder. 

When the pile doesn’t budge, he switches tactics and starts pulling things out of the closet. He can almost reach around the washer now except for one last item leaning against the wall.

Grabbing hold of it, Bucky is surprised to find that it’s pretty solid. He’d assumed it was a duffel bag or something but upon closer inspection it looks like a big, round case. 

“What the hell?” It looks kind of like what someone would use to carry their cymbals in except this one has backpack straps and is made of hard plastic. 

_ Why in the world does Steve have cymbals in his closet? It’s not like he was a drummer before he joined the army… _

_ Oh my god. No...it can’t be...can it?  _

With shaky hands, Bucky unclips the lock on the case and slowly lifts it open. 

The hair on the back of his neck prickles and a chill runs through his body as his mind makes sense of what he’s seeing. 

The colors are more muted than he’d expected even with his shadow is blocking most of the overhead lighting as he crouches in the hallway. There are places where the red and blue paint has flaked off, but the metal underneath it is unscathed, the holes in the coloring the only evidence that it’s even been hit. He’d always thought that the white was painted on too, but up close he can see that it’s just the color of the metal. He shifts to get a closer look and the light from behind him falls directly onto it, illuminating the metal in a way that takes his breath away. Drawn like a moth to the flame, Bucky’s hand moves closer and he wonders if it will be cold to the touch, fingers twitching in anticipation-

“Oh. You found it.” 

Bucky’s head whips up, eyes wide. He freezes with his hand mere centimeters away, heart pounding like a kid who's just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner. 

“I called your name. I was wondering what was taking you so long.” 

Bucky’d been so distracted that he hadn’t hear Steve call for him, hadn’t heard him approaching. He looks from Steve to the open case on the floor and back to Steve again before his brain reboots itself. He jerks away from the case like he’s been shocked. 

“Oh my god, Steve, I’m so sorry.” He scrambles to his feet, hovering awkwardly in the hallway. He feels the urge to shove the case back in the closet, hide the evidence of his accidental snooping but hesitates. What if Steve doesn’t want him to touch it? He’s already fucked up, even opening the case. 

Bucky stammers out an explanation. “I-I dropped the, the,” oh god, why can’t he remember what it’s called, “the thing for the detergent and it fell behind the washer so I was just trying to get the thing back. The cup!” He says, snapping his fingers. “I couldn’t reach it so I had to move some stuff and it was just there and I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to I just…” He trails off, biting his lip. He doesn’t have a good explanation of why he did it, he just knows that he did. Bucky feels sick to his stomach. Steve is probably so mad at him, first for bringing up all those painful memories and now this. 

“Bucky.” 

He jumps when he feels Steve’s hand on his shoulder. When did he get so close? Hadn’t he just been standing at the end of the hall?

“Bucky, it’s okay.” Steve says, amused. “I’m not mad. Really.” 

Relief floods through Bucky, although he still feels a little bit guilty. He doesn’t like to snoop. Okay, maybe a little, but he would never do that to someone he cares about.

Steve bends down and Bucky thinks it’s to close the case, but instead Steve picks up the shield. He holds it so gently, and he’s looking at it so tenderly, like it’s an old friend. Bucky almost feels like he’s intruding but to step away would draw attention to himself so he just waits. 

Steve carefully puts his arms through the straps and in that moment, standing in his hallway in front of the open washing machine holding his shield, Bucky can see Steve, the way he was then. He can see past the clothes on the floor and the wrinkly t-shirt Steve’s wearing right into the heart of him. He holds the shield like he was meant to, and it’s like the Steve he knew before was just an shadow and now he’s fully in the light, illuminated. 

For a moment, the Steve that Bucky knows is overlaid by the hero he grew up with, that untouchable figure from history, like two transparencies placed atop one another. It only lasts the space of a breath, before Steve turns to Bucky and smiles, breaking the moment, but Bucky can’t unsee it, that second when the images lined up perfectly and Bucky could perfectly see Steve as he is, as he was, as he would have been when he gave up so much of himself over and over again. 

He’s vaguely aware of Steve talking, and he blinks, the image of Captain America vanishing. He focuses on the Steve now, in front of him holding out his shield to Bucky. 

“You wanna hold it?” Steve is smiling at him, completely unaware of the sudden shift in reality that Bucky just experienced. 

Bucky doesn't really think he should but Steve looks so at ease, that he can’t help but reach for it. 

He takes the shield from Steve, bracing himself for the weight of it. He laughs, awe barely contained when Steve lets go. “It’s so light,” he says.

Steve nods. “Well, yeah. It’s mostly made of vibranium.”

Bucky runs his fingers over the face of the shield. The history books talk about Captain America’s skill with the shield, turning a symbol of safety into a weapon of protection. He’d always assumed that it would have to be heavy, too heavy for the average person, something that only a supersoldier can weild. It’s even more impressive now that he knows that it’s not the shield that makes Captain America so amazing, but the man behind it.

“I can’t believe they let you keep it.” 

Steve makes a choked sound, and when Bucky tears his eyes away from the shield, Steve is rubbing the back of his neck, looking down at the floor. 

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Steve?”

He looks up, looking only slightly guilty. “Actually, they didn’t. Let me keep it.” Bucky brows shoot up, projecting a look of amused disapproval. “Don’t look at me like that,” Steve says, defensive. “They wanted to keep it locked up in some vault somewhere underground! Said it was property of the United States military, just like me.” His voice drips with contempt and Bucky feels a brief flare of anger in his chest. 

“So I stole it back.” 

He says it so plainly, so matter of fact that Bucky can’t help but laugh. “Of course you did,” he says, delighted. “Do I even want to know how you managed that one?” 

Steve grins. “It’s classified.” 

He holds out his hand and Bucky gives the shield back, watching as Steve puts it back in the case, lock snapping shut with a soft click. Steve puts the case back in the closet, but not before bending down and emerging with the little plastic laundry cup. Bucky feels his face flush in embarrassment, still feeling a little guilty for opening the shield case in the first place. 

Steve hands him the cup, Bucky accepts it with a quiet, “Thank you.” 

Steve pokes him in the ribs, making him squirm, and says, “C’mon. Let's finish your laundry. I’ll even help you fold.” 

-

Shield tucked away and clothes folded, Steve and Bucky find themselves curled around each other on Steve’s bed. By the time the laundry had been finished, it had been dark outside and neither of them had wanted Bucky to leave. So he didn’t. 

They’re relaxing on Steve’s bed, simply enjoying each others company. Bucky is laying on his back, Steve on his side next to him playing idly with his hand, bending his fingers and tracing the lines on his palm. They’ve been laying in silence, feeling no need to fill the air with talk, comfortable to just be together. 

Bucky’s half way to dozing, thinking about maybe closing his eyes, when Steve breaks the silence. 

“I just realized, I never answered your questions from earlier.” 

Bucky tries to remember but is drawing a blank. “Hm?” 

“About what I do all day.” 

Oh yeah. Before he’d gotten distracted by the case hidden behind the washer. 

“I don’t have to work,” Steve speaks quietly, still holding Bucky’s hand. “When I came back and was no longer officially dead, the army owed me back pay for all the years I was frozen since I was technically never discharged. I really don’t ever have to work again. And then when SHIELD stepped in, they gave me this apartment.” He sighs. “They’re probably using it to spy on me, but at the time it was just easier to accept what they gave me.” 

Bucky gives Steve’s hand a comforting squeeze. Steve gives him a small smile in return.

“So, I don’t have to work, but during the day I volunteer.” 

Bucky looks at Steve in surprise. “Volunteer? Where?” 

“Mostly at the VA. That’s where I met Sam, actually.” He chuckles at the memory. “I used to sneak into the back of the weekly group therapy sessions. I’d come in after they got started and I’d leave before they were over so no one would notice I was there. It’s a different time now, and the fight is in a different place but a lot of the stories are the same. It helped me not feel so alone.” 

Bucky’s heart aches. There’s so much of Steve that he still keeps hidden. He’ll tell Bucky about laundry day and the fights he got into even when he couldn’t throw a proper punch, or about how bananas taste different now, but he doesn’t talk about the things that must hurt him the most. The defrosting. His mom. His teammates from the war. Peggy. When he does mention them, even in passing, it feels like a gift. 

Bucky holds his breath, stays perfectly still. Anything to keep Steve talking. 

“Sam noticed me slipping in and out of the meetings and hiding in the back. One day, he snuck in next to me and sat there the whole time. When I made a move to leave, he said, ‘You don’t have to talk, but if you ever want to do a little more than just sitting in the back brooding by yourself, you just go up to the cute girl who works the reception desk and ask for Sam Wilson.’ Then he got up before I could and left his card on the chair next to me.” 

Steve scoots over a bit so his head is lying on Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s free hand moves to stroke Steve’s hair. 

“I was so sure that he was gonna be waiting outside for me that I waited until everyone else had gone before I left the room. But he wasn’t. The next week he was leading the group and the week after that I went to his office. Signed me up as a volunteer. I think he could tell that I wasn’t really all there. After they woke me up, I felt like I was living in a fog. You know when you can’t focus and you try to read something but you get stuck reading the same paragraph over and over again because you just see the words without actually reading them?” 

It’s rhetorical question, but Bucky nods anyway. He’s felt like that before, when things become overwhelming and he can’t find any peace of mind no matter what he does. It’s not a good feeling. 

“It was like time was a book and everything I had known, my whole life was the part that I had read and understood and the future, now, was this new chapter that I couldn’t make sense of. So I kept going back to the pages I knew. I would walk around and turn down a street that I used to know only to be surprised when I was standing in front of an electronics store instead of the butcher. I’d be on the train and I would know how many stops there were before mine but when I got off I was in the wrong place because I hadn’t accounted for the stops that had been added.” 

Bucky closes his eyes, trying not to think of Steve wandering through the city dazed and confused, lost in a place that once was home. 

“I think Sam could see that I wasn’t right and so he started me off easy, doing jobs that required minimal interactions with others while still keeping me busy. Food prep in the kitchens. Setting up the main room for group before the others got there. Pretty soon I was going two, three times a week. At first it was just something to do, but I started to feel like I was needed somewhere. I think Sam knew that I needed a reason to get up in the morning. He caught me sketching one day, just a little doodle on a napkin, and insisted that I help in the art therapy classes. At first I was just helping clean up and organizing supplies, but eventually I started to help for real.” 

Bucky sends up a silent thanks to Sam Wilson. He knew Sam worked at the VA, but he hadn’t known how they’d met. Bucky had always assumed Sam met Steve running or something; he would never have guessed that Sam literally saved the man's life. Because that’s what it's beginning to sound like. Steve’s not saying it outright, but he’s saying enough. Bucky makes a silent promise to buy Sam a drink, or five the next time they go out. Maybe send him a fruit basket. 

“So, now I run a beginners learn to draw art therapy class at the VA, in addition to helping Sam with the weekly group. You know,” Steve says, huffing out a quiet laugh, “it’s really thanks to Sam that we met.” 

Bucky looks down at Steve. “Wait, really?” 

“Well, not directly. But Sam helped pull me out of my funk and once I started feeling a little better I started to do my own research about the war, and myself and all the things I’d missed to get me caught up to speed. SHIELD gave me a refresher course when I woke up but I was too out of it to really gain anything from it.” 

As Steve talks, the hand in his hair slows. “Steve,” Bucky begins, “does Sam know who you are?” 

Steve shakes his head, jostling Bucky’s whole body. “I don’t think so. I haven’t told him, but I’m sure he knows that there’s something I’m hiding from him. I can’t give him direct answers about my service and he won’t push it, but I can tell he’s bothered by it.” 

Bucky silently resumes petting Steve’s hair. Sam doesn’t know who Steve is. Steve didn’t tell his closest friend his true identity, but he told Bucky. He has to take a deep breath as affection swells for Steve, so strong and sweet and currently using Bucky’s chest as a pillow. Even though they’re dating and Bucky knows that Steve is serious about their relationship, he is still a bit shocked that he ranks higher than Sam on the list of people that Steve trusts. And without Sam, Steve might not have started going to the library on a regular basis... Fuck, Bucky really needs to buy Sam a whole goddamn dinner. 

He must be quiet for a long time, lost in this thoughts because Steve picks his head up to look at him. “Buck?” 

“Yeah, Steve?” 

“You okay? You’ve been awfully quiet.” 

Bucky hums, planting a kiss to the top of Steve's head. “Yeah, I’m just thinking.” 

He feels Steve nod. They lay like that for another minute or so before Bucky gently nudges Steve off him. He get ups and turns off the main light in the room, leaving only the soft yellow light of the bedside lamp. It’s late and though they haven’t discussed it, Bucky knows that he’s not going home tonight. He strips off his jeans, leaving him in just his shirt and boxers. He goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth with one of the spare toothbrushes Steve keeps under his sink. 

When he returns he sees that Steve has undressed as well, replacing his jeans with soft pajama bottoms but forgoing the shirt. After a moment of deliberation, Bucky’s shirt joins his pants on the floor and he climbs back on the bed, rearranging himself so they’re both lying on their sides facing each other. He tangles their legs together and reclaims Steve’s hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. In the dim light, Bucky can see Steve’s cheeks redden. Even though they’re laid close, bodies curling towards each other, this is an intimacy that is new for both of them. It’s still a little bit heady knowing he can make Steve blush.

“Tell me something you liked,” he whispers to Steve. “Something from before the war.”

Steve looks at him for a long moment, thinking. 

“I always liked riding the trains,” he says finally, soft and sure. “My favorite part was when you’d go from total darkness underground and emerge into the bright light of the day so bright that it blinds you for just a second before you’re rising higher and higher until you were above the streets and you could just watch the whole city unfold around you.”

Bucky doesn’t have to try at all to envision the scene Steve’s describing. It seems that the subway system hasn’t changed all that much in the last 70 years. The views outside the windows, maybe. 

“We were poor and I was sick, so I didn’t get a chance to ride them all that often, and I definitely didn’t get a chance to explore the whole city. My whole neighborhood was only about a mile square, but at that time there was really no reason to go any farther than that. Everything we needed was close enough. But I used to,” Steve huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “It’s just a silly little daydream, but I used to hope that one day I’d have enough money to get on the train and just ride it all the way to the end of the line just to watch the whole city go by.”

Leaning forward, Bucky places a soft kiss on Steve’s lips. “It’s not silly.” He presses his face into Steve’s neck, breathing him in, picturing a different Steve, who despite all the shit that the world threw at him still had the simple dream of seeing the world, even if it was through a train window. 

“I’ll ride the train with you, Steve.” He pulls back enough for Steve to see his face, so he knows he’s being serious.

“We could make a day of it. Get up early to watch the people on their morning commute, all miserable and craving coffee. They’ll slowly trickle out going to their boring, unfulfilling jobs and we’ll secretly laugh because we don’t have anywhere to be. We’ll keep track of how many people come in begging for money, maybe give em a couple of dollars. We’ll switch cars at every stop until we pick a favorite. You can bring your sketchbook and we’ll watch the city go by. You can tell me what’s changed and I can tell you what’s new, and by the time we’re done, we’ll see those same people from the morning, still tired but just a little less miserable because now they get to go home.” 

Bucky chuckles softly. “You’ll give up your seat to a pregnant lady and make me feel shitty for not doing it first so then I’ll give up my seat to an old man with a hunch and a cane and we’ll stand there together, huddled together in the crowded train car, getting jostled by strangers, but it’ll be okay because you’ll hold on to the bar and I’ll just hold on to you.” 

A gentle hand smooths Bucky’s hair and his eyes flutter open. He hadn’t realized that he’d closed them, caught up in imagining his day out with Steve. In the low light, Bucky can see Steve’s eyes shining before they close, Steve’s hand on Bucky’s lower back making his skin tingle as he’s pulled closer into a kiss, long and slow and sweet. Bucky lets himself be kissed, a slow fire burning him from the inside. 

When they break apart, Bucky hardly registers Steve moving away from him. His head feels heavy, laden down with deep contentment and rapidly approaching sleep. His thoughts move thick like molasses. He takes long, deep breaths, savoring the remnants of Steve’s kiss like the fading flavor of chocolate melting on his tongue. He hears the click of the lamp and in the darkness Bucky lets himself be turned around, feels strong arms wrapping around his middle pulling him gently, his back now flush with Steve’s chest. Bucky lets out a soft noise, snuggling into the embrace. The last thing he knows before sleep takes him is the warm breath against his ear of soft words whispered into the night. 


	5. Chapter 5

It’s a warm Saturday afternoon when it all comes crashing down.

It’s a rare occasion that Bucky has a day off on a weekend. Usually he’s off in the middle of the week, but he’d swapped shifts with someone last Thursday and so now he has one gloriously free Saturday to do whatever he pleases. He sends Steve a quick text.

**I’m off today and have no plans. Any ideas?**

_It’s a nice day out. How about a picnic?_

Bucky can’t help but smile even as he rolls his eyes. Steve’s really gotten a handle on the 21st century, but sometimes his inner old man comes out. A picnic? Bucky hasn’t been on a picnic since like the third grade. But Steve’s cute and Bucky kinda sorta likes him a lot, so of course he responds with:

**That sounds great! But what are you gonna do?**

Just to mess with him.

_I meant with me, you ass!_

Bucky sends him a kissy face emoji.

They agree on a late lunch, giving Bucky some time to finish up some chores that have been neglected during the week and so that Steve can prepare his picnic feast.

Steve shows up a little after noon with an honest to god picnic basket and a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Where did you even get that thing?” Bucky asks as Steve sets the huge wicker basket complete with a red gingham liner on the countertop.

“The internet,” Steve replies vaguely, while gleefully watching Bucky eye the woven monstrosity currently taking up all the free space in his kitchen.

Bucky looks from Steve to the basket and back again. “You purposely bought the most obnoxious one, didn’t you? Just to embarrass me.”

Clutching his chest, Steve gasps out, “Me? Embarass you?” Bucky looks at him, unimpressed until Steve gives in and says, “Yeah. Had to custom order it too. They don’t normally make them that big.”

“Of course they don’t,” Bucky mutters.

“Are you ready to go?” Steve chirps, clearly enjoying Bucky’s reaction to the absurd basket.

“Yeah, sure.” Bucky grabs his keys and follows Steve out the door, locking it behind him. “It’s a good thing you’re a super soldier because there is no way in hell that I am carrying that thing. That’s all you.”

Steve pauses, shuffling around with the basket, before reaching for Bucky with his newly freed hand. “I don’t mind carrying it because you still have to be seen with it.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky whines, allowing himself to be pulled down the hall. “You’re the worst. Why do I like you?”

Steve just laughs as he leads the way.

-

When Steve said picnic, he really meant picnic. Bucky shouldn’t have been surprised after he saw the basket but he didn’t really expect to be led to the park where Steve found them a nice grassy nook behind two boulders that provided not only shade, but a backrest and seclusion from the weekend park goers.

“Steve, this is amazing. How did you find this spot? It’s perfect. We can people watch and they won’t even know we’re here.”

“Wait! Don’t sit yet!”

Bucky freezes, already halfway to the ground in an awkward squatting position. Steve reaches into the depths of the picnic basket and pulls out a big canvas square. There’s a zipper on the outer edge and Bucky watches, still squatting as Steve unzips it and it unfolds into a blanket, spreading it on the grass before giving Bucky the go ahead to sit down.

“Oof,” Bucky says, plopping onto the blanket. He gapes at the sheer amount of stuff packed away in the outrageous basket, as Steve pulls a seemingly endless amount of food out of the basket, followed by plates, glasses, utensils and a salt and pepper shaker.

“You got anything else in that carpet bag, Mary Poppins?” Bucky says, making himself comfortable, watching as Steve pulls out a few beers and a bottle of sparkling lemonade.

Steve peers into the basket before he closes the lid, turning his attention now to the spread on the blanket. “If I’m Mary Poppins, doesn’t that make you the children?” He gives Bucky an impish grin.

Bucky swats his arm. “No, you idiot. I’m the handsome chimney sweep, duh.”

They relax in their public park hideaway, eating sandwiches and fruit, enjoying the warmth from the sun and each others company. Steve pours Bucky a glass of lemonade, then pops the top of a beer for himself.

“I can’t believe you still drink those,” Bucky says, waving at Steve’s beer. “If you can’t get drunk, then what’s the point?”

Steve still insists on drinking a beer whenever they go out. Once, they’d been out for Clint’s birthday and Clint, after having several drinks already, had insisted that everyone partake in celebratory shots. “Except for you man,” he’d slurred, pointing at Bucky, “cause I know you don’t like drinking and I would never, _never,_ force you to do that cause that’s- that’s just _not fucking chill, bro.”_ Bucky had graciously thanked him while trying not to laugh too much, and Clint had bowed before heading off to the bar to order the drinks, with Nat following behind, shaking her head.

Steve had leaned over like he was revealing top secret information. “Alcohol doesn’t even work on me, the serum burns it off too fast.“

Bucky just looked at him, appalled. “Then why are you still drinking it?”

Clint had come back before they could say anymore, but Bucky has given him shit for it ever since.

Steve huffs. “Maybe I like the taste.”

Bucky points a finger at him. “That better be a lie because it’s nasty.”

“It’s an acquired taste!”

Bucky scoffs. “That’s just code for ‘it tastes gross, but no one wants to admit it.’”

Steve just rolls his eyes and continues to drink his beer.

A few minutes later, Bucky spies a man pushing a cart on the main path. He nudges Steve. “Hey, you want a snow cone? I know how much you like them.”

Steve grunts. “No.”

Bucky frowns. _What’s gotten into him?_ “You really don’t want a snow cone?” He watches as the snowcone man continues on down the path.

“No, I’ll just continue drinking my _nasty_ beer.”

Bucky turns back to Steve. To the untrained eye, the man looks like the picture of leisure and relaxation. But Bucky can see the way his eyes flit over to see if he’s watching, the way his jaw tenses ever so slightly. Eyes narrowed, Bucky stares at Steve for another long moment. The second he see’s Steves resolve crack, he strikes.

Literally. He gives Steve a good _thwack!_ on the arm as he bursts out laughing.

“You jerk!” Bucky cries, trying to land another good smack, but by now Steve has doubled over with laughter.

“You should have seen your face,” Steve gasps out.

“I knew you weren’t really mad!” He turns away from Steve in an over exaggerated pout. “Stop trying to make me feel bad about making you feel bad about drinking gross beer.” He looks back at Steve still laughing. “Now, I’m not gonna buy you a snow cone.”

Steve sobers up real quick. “Aw, no Bucky, please?” He grabs Bucky’s hand in an attempt to sway him back to his good graces. Bucky rolls his eyes in Steve’s direction only to be met with Steve’s (admittedly very cute) kicked puppy face.

Bucky’s not really upset, and Steve knows it but Bucky goes for one last hit. “Fine, but just for that I’m gonna get you the grossest flavor they have.”

Bucky gets up to track down the man with the cart so they can get their frozen treats, Steve calling out after him, “Aw, thanks. You’re so good to me!” Bucky flips him off and he can hear laughter behind him. He doesn't even really like snow cones, but Steve says they remind him of his childhood and Bucky likes to hear him talk about his life before the serum, even though it pains him to think of Steve sick and alone.

Bucky finally reaches the cart, waiting in line behind a group of teenagers. He’s checking his phone, he’s got a couple of work emails and a text from Nat, ignoring them both in favor of mindless social media but he pauses his scrolling when he overhears the kids in front of him.

“Dude, there’s no way that’s him,” one kid says, wearing a backwards ball cap. His friend who is looking intently at his phone, says “Bro, looks it's right here!” He shoves the phone into backwards cap kids face.

“See! ‘TMZ Breaking news report! Captain America is alive and he shops at Target!’ I told you man it’s totally him!”

Bucky’s blood runs cold. _Did that kid just say…_

“Captain America is dead, dude! He froze like 100 years ago or something.”

With shaky hands, Bucky pulls up the search engine on his phone and types in ‘captain america’. He closes his eyes, praying that when he opens them the only links will be the ones from Steve’s wildly inaccurate wikipedia page.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky opens his eyes.

**_TMZ Breaking News: Captain America spotted ALIVE in NYC!_ **

**_Military Hero Presumed Lost in the Arctic Spotted Alive, sources say._ **

**_Hot Enough to Melt the Ice “Cap”s! Your favorite historical hottie rumored to be returned from the dead._ **

There are pages of them, link after link. They all seem to link back to a single source, but one is enough. The internet has exploded. Heart pounding, Bucky looks around. Everyone in sight is looking at their phone, a low buzz starting as people start talking about the new rumored superhero return.

He’s vaguely aware that the kids in front of him have moved on, that he’s next in line, that the snowcone man has been asking him for his order.

Bucky looks back at his phone. _Posted 32 minutes ago._

_Oh no. Steve._

Bucky sprints as fast as he can back to the picnic site, back to Steve. He has no idea what he’s going to do but he knows that he needs to alert Steve of this as soon as humanly possible. As he gets closer, there seem to be more and more people on the path and he has to slow down to avoid literally ramming into people. He’s almost there but the throngs of people are slowing him down. Some of them have their phones out like they’re filming something. Pushing his way to the front of the crowd Bucky doesn't know what he expected to see, but he knows for sure it wasn’t this.

When Steve has confided in him that he was a serumed super soldier from World War II, Bucky had been reasonably doubtful, but he’d seen how the serum had healed Steve right before his eyes and he’d never had any reason to doubt after that. He’d listened to Steve talk about growing up during the Great Depression, about how he was sick and had no one in the world besides his mother, who worked so hard and had so little to show for it. He’d watched how Steve’s eyes lit up on the rare occasions when he talked about Peggy Carter and the Commandos, he’d see the pain behind his eyes.

Bucky believed that Steve was Captain America. He just hadn’t realized that meant that he was _Captain America._

Bucky stands at the front of the crowd, poleaxed, unable to move as he watches Steve fend off three large men dressed in some sort of black knock off riot gear. He watched as Steve, who had literally been laughing at him less than ten minutes ago, dodge a punch from one side and grab the oncoming fist of another assailant and literally swing the man around, knocking the first man down with him. Mesmerized, Bucky watches as Steve does some sort of twisty maneuver in the air and kicks another man in the face. It's brutal but elegant at the same time and Bucky vaguely wonders what it would look like to see Steve with his shield.

Shouts from the crowd draw his attention away from Steve and he turns to see more men dressed in black running towards the ongoing melee. None of the men Steve is currently fighting seem to have weapons, or if they do, Steve never gives them the chance to reach for them. But Bucky can see that the men running towards them have clubs, or batons or something and as he watches them approach, he sees one of them reach for something on his belt. A gun.

The crowd notices the imminent threat approaching and people start to scatter, running haphazardly away from the scene.

Fear clenching around his heart, Bucky struggles not to get swept away in the crowd. “Steve!” He screams, hoping to be heard over the roar of the crowd. Steve must have heard him because he looks up, eyes finding Bucky in the crowd. One of the attackers notices the distraction and takes the opportunity to punch Steve while he’s focused on Bucky.

Bucky winces, but Steve seems unaffected, throwing a solid punch in return and the man crumples.

He turns back to Bucky and shouts, “Bucky, run! Get out of here!” Steve turns around just in time to fend off the new wave of attacks.

Bucky knows that he should listen to Steve and run but it’s like he’s frozen in place, unable to look away from Steve. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a blur of black and red jump into the fray.

“Natasha? What the hell are you doing here??”

She punches the closest enemy, sending him away with an explosion of blue sparks. She turns to Bucky and roars, “RUN!”

Steve in the throws of battle was something to behold, glorious and every bit the famed hero the history books made him out to be. But Natasha...He didn’t even know why Natasha was here, but she was terrifying and Bucky didn’t need to be told twice.

He turned and ran as fast as his feet would take him.

-

Bucky slumped against the door of his apartment, breathing harder than he had ever in his life. He’d been halfway to Steve’s place before his brain caught up to his feet and he realized that maybe Steve’s wasn’t the safest place to be. He wasn’t sure, if his place was much safer—if they (whoever they were) had enough information to find Steve, they probably knew about Bucky. But his addled brain hadn’t given him any other options and so here he is. At home. Alone. After Steve was attacked in the park.

_What. The. Fuck._

Bucky rubs his eyes hard enough to see stars, taking a minute to breathe.

“Bucky!”

He jumps about three feet in the air, frantically looking around for something to use a weapon.

“Bucky, it's me! Open up!”

“Clint?” Wrenching open the door, Bucky grabs Clint by the shirt and hauls him into the apartment, slamming the door behind them.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

“Clint, oh my god, you won’t believe what just happened. I was at the park with Steve and we got attacked and then Nat was there and she was like, fighting them and she had these weird things on her wrists-”

“Are you okay?” Clint interrupts, seemingly uninterested with anything Bucky has to say.

“Am I OKAY?” Bucky screeches. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying? We were ATTACKED. At the PARK. Steve is -” Bucky stops as if he’s just now realizing something. “Oh god. Steve. Steve is still there, fighting those—those people! And Natasha? Oh god, I have to go back I have to help them, what was I thinking running away like that-”

“BUCKY.” Clint grabs his shoulders, shaking him roughly. Bucky shuts his mouth with a click. “Are you _hurt?_ ”

Still held in place by Clint, Bucky takes stock of himself. He’s shaking and breathing is difficult for some reason and he’s freaking out a whole hell of a lot, but physically he is fine.

“No.”

“Okay, good. Bucky, you have to listen to me.” Clint says, releasing Bucky and taking a step back. It’s then that Bucky notices Clint’s clothes. He’s not in his normal jeans and rumpled tee. He’s wearing dark pants with heavy boots, wearing some kind of weird vest…

“Oh my god, what the fuck are you wearing?” Clint just stares at him waiting for him to stop freaking out. “Clint, what the FUCK IS HAPPENING?”

“Bucky, I need you to listen to me.” Clint demands. “We will explain everything. Later. I promise. But for right now, I need you to do three things for me, okay?”

Clint doesn’t proceed until Bucky nods.

“Okay, number one. Turn off your phone. Do not turn it on no matter what, you hear me? I’m serious.” Bucky nods again. “Number two. Lock all the doors and windows. Do not leave this apartment. When everything is handled we will come back for you, I promise. But do not leave before then. And three, do not open the door. For anyone. If anyone breaks in, use this,” Clint presses something into Bucky’s hands.

“It’s a taser. Just hold down the button on the side and have at it.” Despite the severity of his situation, Clint shoots him a quick grin and squeezes his shoulders one last time. “Just hang tight. We’ll be back in no time.”

Clint leaves just as abruptly as he arrived, leaving Bucky with his mouth hanging open and a taser in his hand.

-

Four hours later, Bucky is pacing when he hears voices in the hallway. When he hears someone fiddling with his locks on the door, he scrambles to grab the taser from where he’d abandoned it on the kitchen counter about a hour after Clint left, once it became apparent that no one was coming after him. He reaches the taser just as the lock clicks and he swirls around just as the door swings open.

“Whoa, dude.” Clint looks tired and a little dirty but is still in the same weird outfit from before. He holds his hands up. “Relax, it’s just us.”

Bucky does so, but only marginally. Nat and Steve file in behind Clint. His heart picks up at the sight of Steve. Aside from being a little sweaty and disheveled, you almost couldn’t tell that Steve had been single handedly fighting off rogue thugs in the street.

He looks at Steve, beginnings of a bruise purpling on one cheek. Steve’s eyes are blazing and Bucky itches to touch him but he’s too aware of Nat and Clint still in the room. Normally, the presence of his friends don’t stop him from touching Steve, as long as he’s willing to deal with a little good natured teasing. But this is different. Nat and Clint have been keeping secrets from him, and he doesn’t feel particularly friendly towards either of them at the moment. And he still needs a fucking explanation.

“Woah, it’s so clean in here. Did you mop?” Clint remarks as he moves past Bucky into the kitchen. He turns on the tap and instead of grabbing a glass of water like a normal human, he ducks his head to drink directly from the stream coming out of the faucet.

Clint’s calm demeanor is infuriating. “Yeah well, you’ve been gone for _four hours_ , what the fuck else was I supposed to do _?”_ Bucky doesn’t attempt to keep the edge out of his voice.

“So, you stress cleaned? I didn’t know you did that,” Clint says, wiping at his mouth and turning off the tap.

“Yeah, well neither did I.”

There’s a moment of tense silence before Natasha steps in.

“Bucky, I know you’re angry and confused and probably a little betrayed and for that I am sorry.”

Bucky wills his face to remain as neutral as possible. He is in fact feeling all of those things and Natasha reading him like an open book only serves to makes him angrier. He says nothing, just waits.

Natasha exchanges a quick glance with Clint who gives a half shrug, deferring to her. She sighs.

“Okay. So here’s the deal. Steve here is Captain America.” She quirks a brow. “But I assume you knew that already?”

Bucky nods.

“Wait, he knew?”

All three heads swivel to look at Clint.

“Clint. They’re dating,” Nat says, gesturing between Steve and Bucky. “Did you really think that Mr. Truth and Justice over here was not going to tell him?”

Clint just crosses his arms, mumbling under his breath.

“Clint and I work for SHIELD.” Nat says, ignoring Clint and turning back to Bucky. “I assume Steve told you what that is?”

Over her shoulder, Bucky can see Steve’s face tighten at the mention of SHIELD. Steve had mentioned them and Bucky had done a little bit more digging on his own, but the results had been sparse, no official website, only a few threads on government conspiracy forums. Next to nothing. Privately, Bucky thought that Steve was right to be suspicious.

Bucky shrugged, waving an arm like he couldn’t care less. “It’s some sort of secret government agency, right? Top secret, ‘if I tell you, I’d have to kill you’ type shit?”

Bucky could see Natasha’s jaw clench and her eyes widen slightly in warning. He knew he shouldn’t poke the bear. He carried on anyway. “Cause that’s the only reason I could think that you would lie to me for so long. It's not like we've been friends for years or anything. Or was that all a lie too?”

Natashas face was hard and unamused when she spoke again. "Are you done? Is your little tantrum over? Because this is serious." Bucky felt his cheeks redden in shame but he quickly pushed the feeling away. He’s allowed a little dramatics, all things considered.

"I didn't tell you because you didn't need to know. SHIELD is more than a secret government agency. We handle things that the government can't. Things that there are no precedent for. I didn't tell you about my job because if I do my job properly, you shouldn't know my job exists."

She turns around and gestures to Steve. "When your boy over here was found, it caused a frenzy within the government. No one knew what to do. If SHIELD had stayed out of it, do you really think that you two lovebirds would have been left alone?" Natasha scoffs. "You two would never have even met because they would have kept him under lock and key, used him as a weapon.” There’s silence as she lets her words sink in. “SHIELD steps in when the government is out of their depth. Don't try to paint us as some evil empire with hidden agendas just because you're pissed at me."

Bucky turns away from her, unwilling to meet her eye. Natasha's face softens, looking more like his friend and less like some mysterious agent. "My job is to keep things secret. I am sorry that you had to find out this way but I'm not sorry that I didn't tell you."

Bucky's still angry and is still trying to grasp that his friends are secret government spies. Is ‘spy’ even the right word? He doesn't know but he wants to believe that Natasha's apology is genuine.

Clint pipes up. "I'm sorry too, man." He nods at Natasha. "She's right though. SHIELD deals with some crazy shit and it's just easier to not have to explain it." He gives Bucky a pointed look. "It's also safer for you."

Bucky snorts. "Oh yeah. Keeping secrets from me kept me real safe today when a bunch of dudes attacked us today."

Natasha looks directly at Bucky. "This is not a joke. Those men came after Steve because someone leaked that Steve is alive. That kind of information is not readily available. There are two possible explanations." She holds up two fingers, ticking them off as she speaks. "Option one: someone with a very high security clearance willingly gave up that intel or was coerced into giving it up. Option two: We've been hacked. Either way this took extreme skill to pull off and that is not something to be taken lightly."

"You're lucky that those men were morons because If they had any kind of brain, they would have taken you. They would have questioned you about Steve, about SHIELD and when they realized that you didn't have the answers they were looking for, they would have killed you, without a second thought." Natasha's voice is stone.

Bucky's entire body goes cold. His legs feel like jelly. Steve suddenly appears at his elbow, helping him into a chair. "But if they would have..." Bucky swallows hard, unable to finish.

"The less you know, the less valuable you are and the less likely they are to target you. I've managed to keep your relationship to Steve out of SHIELD's files." She looks between them. "If anyone goes looking, you won't appear to be anything more than someone Steve has occasional contact with. But that won't last long." She gives them both an apologetic look.

"Now that Steve's out in the open, people will be coming for him. Not just dangerous people. Reporters, paparazzi."

There are a million questions he wants to ask, but he can only get his mouth to form one. "How?" It's all he can manage and he can only hope that Natasha can figure out what he means.

"When Steve came out of the ice, SHIELD struck up a deal with the government. Steve can have his freedom, with the caveat that he can be called back if the need arises." Bucky nods, he already knew that. "There was also a stipulation that a SHIELD Agent be assigned to Steve to keep tabs on him lest he disappear when he was needed."

"I didn't know that." It's the first thing Steve's said since they walked in.

Natasha ignores the anger in Steve's voice. "You weren't told because we knew you wouldn't agree. It's low level surveillance, nothing invasive. It's more like glorified babysitting." Outwardly Steve has no reaction, but Bucky knows that inside he's probably fuming at the knowledge that he had a secret handler.

Speaking directly to Steve, Natasha continues. "My point is, I was assigned to you. Early on they wanted detailed reports on your movements but once it was clear you weren't a flight risk, they backed off a little. And then when I actually met you, I backed off and kept my reports intentionally vague."

Natasha turns to Bucky again. "It was a complete coincidence that I'm friends with you and that you became friends with Steve. I swear I had nothing to do with that." She flashes a smile. "In fact, once you two started dating, it was just easier to let you do my job for me."

Bucky ignores Nat’s last comment and takes a moment to consider everything he's just heard. He's still upset that he'd been lied to, but just because he doesn't agree with it doesn't mean that he can't see that it was necessary. He reaches for Steve, who takes his hand and gives it a squeeze.

Bucky sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Okay, so you're a secret agent who looks after Steve. What about Clint? Were you working together?"

"Nah." Clint pushes of the wall he'd been leaning against, making his way over to the counter where Bucky's seated. "The keep me on retainer. Only call me in if things get messy. Or if we didn't see it coming."

Bucky blinks in surprise. "So you're like a part time spy?"

Clint laughs and shakes his head. "No, I'm not really a spy, that's more Nat's thing. I'm mostly muscle."

"Is that why your outfit is so weird?"

Clint just laughs. "It's better than Natasha's catsuit."

Nat reaches over to smack him, but he dodges out of the way. “You weapon of choice is a bow and arrow. You don’t have room to talk.” It's such a normal exchange that Bucky feels himself start to relax, despite the circumstances.

"What happens now?" Steve's voice is quiet but it cuts through the moment sobering them all. Natasha doesn't shrug but her face conveys the same sense of uncertainty.

"I'll have to talk to some people and see if we can find the person who did this. The sooner we can find them the sooner we can get to the bottom of why they did this. Unfortunately, we can't undo what's already been done. The cat's out of the bag, Steve. I'm sorry." She sounds like she means it. "There are contingency plans for if something like this were to happen. It may take a day or two to get everything in place so my advice for you is to just lay low the next couple of days. Both of you."

Steve nods and Natasha continues on. "Keep the doors locked and the windows shut. If there's anything you guys need, let me know and I'll make sure you get it."

"Does this mean I can turn my phone back on?" Bucky asks.

"Give me 20 minutes to set up a secure network for all your devices and then you should be good." Bucky nods and Natasha gives them on long look before she gives Clint a gentle pat on the shoulder. He stands and follows her, saying nothing but giving Bucky an apologetic look. They're almost out the door before Steve calls them back.

"I need to tell Sam. We're supposed to go running tomorrow. He’ll be worried if I don’t show up."

"I'll tell him. You should just get some rest." She nods once and they're gone.

-

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Bucky gets up and locks the door behind them. When he turns back around, Steve is right there. He crowds Bucky against the door, grabbing his face and kissing him hard.

"Hmmpf!"

Bucky holds on as best as he can as Steve kisses him frantically, hands making his way under his shirt, searching for skin. Bucky pulls back, resting his forehead on Steve's. He places his hands on Steve's chest, feels it rising and falling as Steve sucks in harsh breaths.

"Hey Steve, it's okay. I'm okay." Bucky rubs small circle's over Steve's heart, hoping that it will help him to calm down. He'd been so put together earlier when Natasha and Clint were still here, distant even. Bucky is bewildered by the sudden shift in behavior.

He pushes Steve, not away but back, gently guiding him past the couch and down the hall into his bedroom. The room is dark and curtains are still drawn. Bucky foregoes the overhead light for the small lamp he has on his bedside table, enveloping the room in a soft, yellow glow. Bucky pushes Steve once more, and he sits heavily on the bed. His head hangs like there’s a fifty pound weight around his neck. He looks weary in a way that Bucky didn't think he could look.

“Steve, what going on?” He settles on the bed next to Steve. “Is it because of what happened?” Bucky’s still rattled but it was hours ago now and he’s had time to come down from it, but he has no idea what Steve’s been doing while Bucky was pacing and worrying, safe in his apartment. He doesn’t presume to know what’s going on in Steve’s head, but whatever it is can’t be good. Steve remains silent. Bucky scoots a little closer and starts rubbing his back, offering some comfort, hoping to calm whatever storm is raging inside Steve.

“When I woke up, everyone I knew was gone.” Steve’s voice is hollow and it damn near breaks Bucky’s heart. Steve has talked about coming out of the ice before, but he’s never sounded like this, like he’s still raw and flayed open. “I was walking around in a daze just going through the motions of living really for a long time. And then I met Sam and things started getting better. The volunteering, the research. It helped to not feel so helpless but even then those were just things to do. I didn’t really feel like I belonged here, now.”

Bucky takes a hold of Steve’s hand, lightly squeezing. _You do belong. You’re not alone anymore._

“But then,” Steve finally looks up, and some of the tenison he’s holding melts away when their eyes meet. “I met you at the library and you made that dumb joke about my name and the smile you gave me was so genuine, even though I could tell you regretted making that joke because it was so bad.” Steve gives him a smile, the first he’s made since their picnic. God, was that really just today? So much has happened since then, their relaxing lunch seems lifetimes away.

“So much of what I’d seen since waking up wasn’t real. Everything now is all made up and manipulated like it wasn’t before, like an illusion that never goes away, but that smile felt like the first real thing I’d seen. It changed my life, Buck. You helped me feel like person again.”

They’re pulled back to reality as Steve’s phone starts to ring between them. He heaves a great big sigh. “I should answer that.”

Bucky bites his lip, worried that somehow it’ll be bad news. He nods. He stands to leave, to give him some privacy, but stops when he feels Steve’s hand gently clasped around his wrist. Steve pulls him back and buries his face in Bucky’s stomach, arms hugging tight round his middle. Bucky’s hands come up to cradle his head, running his fingers through Steve’s hair, gently massaging his scalp. He bends down and places a kiss to the top of his head. He smells like outside, dirt and sweat but underneath all that he still smells like Steve. Bucky takes another breath in, letting the scent of Steve flood his nostrils.

Steve’s phone rings again. “You should answer that,” Bucky echoes, quietly. “I’ll make you some tea.”

Steve gives him one last squeeze, before reluctantly pulling away to glaring at his phone. He answers it with a tired, “Rogers.” Bucky slips out of the room, pulling the door almost closed behind him.

He busies himself in the kitchen, setting the water to boil and pulling the box of tea out of the cupboard. Bucky doesn’t even like tea. But Steve likes tea, especially in the evenings or when he’s feeling stressed. Steve had been surprised but pleased when Bucky had told him that he bought tea especially for him. However, that joy had almost completely disappeared when he’d discovered that Bucky didn’t own a kettle. He’d looked personally offended when Bucky had suggested just heating the water in the microwave.

He can hear Steve talking quietly in the other room and tries to focus on the task at hand. He searches in his cabinets for the biggest mug he has. He’s just pulled the water off the heat when Steve comes out into the kitchen.

“That was Natasha.” He sounds less than thrilled about that fact. Probably because he’s still upset that she had been his secret handler for the last few years. “I have to go to SHIELD headquarters for a debrief on what happened in the park.” He watches Bucky pour the steaming water into the mug, tea bag already inside.

“They also said that in light of recent events we need to ‘reevaluate my status as a non-active military combatant.’” Bucky doesn’t like the sound of that and from the looks of it, neither does Steve. Unsure of what to say, Bucky takes the pot to the sink, reaching for the sponge before he remembers that there was nothing in it but water. He sighs, dropping the sponge and the pot back in the sink. His fingers grip the edge of the countertop and he takes another deep breath.

His back is to Steve and he can hear the scrape of the mug against the counter as Steve picks it up, inhaling deeply. He can picture his hands cradling the mug, imagines the way his hands will be warm and pink from the heat seeping through the ceramic. “When do you have to be there?”

Another clink as the mug returns to the counter. “Tomorrow. In D.C.”

Bucky turns around, mouth agape. “D.C.?”

Steve nods. “It's where the headquarters is. Plus they’ll probably want me closer to the Department of Defense so they can try to reinstate me as an active soldier and use me for whatever they want.” Steve doesn’t hide the vitriol in his voice. “I almost wish they had just kept me on duty from the start. To give me chance at a normal life just to rip it all away? That’s just cruel.”

Bucky finds himself balling his hands into fists. He’s never punched another living soul before, but right about now he wants to go down to D.C. and sucker punch every person who thought that they could just control Steve like a dog, make him come at their every beck and call, take away his right to have a normal fucking life after everything he’s done for them—

‘Buck.” He blinks and unclenches his jaw, watching as Steve reaches for his hands, slowly unfurling them. He stares at the angry half moon indents on his palms from his nails biting into his skin. He frowns. He hadn’t even felt it. “Bucky, it’s okay.”

Steve takes another half step closer, standing nearly toe to toe. He tangles their fingers together on one hand, using the other to brush away a stray hair, then cups Bucky’s face, the movement so sweet and tender that suddenly all the emotions from the day come rushing back and he can feel the tears welling up. His breath hitches and his eyes fall closed as Steve kisses away the few tears that do escape. Bucky tilts his head a little, searching for Steve’s mouth and he nearly sags against Steve’s chest when he finds it, these kisses nothing like the frantic, desperate ones from before.

Steve hasn’t even left yet but Bucky can’t bear the thought of him leaving, especially not when he knows he’s headed straight into the lion’s den. God, and he can’t even turn to Clint or Natasha because they’re _spies_. He opens himself up to Steve, trying to get lost in him, pouring all of his raw feeling into the kiss. It’s over all too soon, Steve breaking away first, leaning his forehead on Bucky’s, breathing heavily, breaths mingling in the narrow space between them.

“Bucky, things are only going to get harder from here, you know that right?” Steve takes a step back and Bucky instantly misses him. “Even if we find the people responsible and the attacks stop, people are still gonna come looking for me. Nat was right about that.” Steve closes his eyes tight before he opens them and looks right at Bucky, face grim but determined. “That being said, it's not fair to ask you to deal with all of that.”

Bucky frowns, suddenly nervous. “Steve, what are you talking about?”

“I don’t know how long this whole thing in D.C. will take but I understand if—if by the time I come back you’ve decided that it’s too much for you. Being with me,” he clarifies.

Bucky thinks he knows where Steve is going with this, but he needs to be sure before he responds. He looks at him long and hard, eyes narrowed. He waits until Steve starts to sweat under the pressure. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Steve’s eyes widen in shock. “What? No!” He starts rubbing his neck, stumbling over his words. Maybe he’s realized that now isn’t the best time for this particularly stupid conversation. “I’m just saying—all I meant was that if this,” he gestures between them, “becomes too complicated or too hard to deal with that I’m not gonna make you stay with me.” A horrified look crosses his face. “Not that I would ever make you do anything like that! You’re your own person, who am I to say what you can and can’t do. Oh my god,” Steve rubs his hand down his face, flushed from his fumbling. “I’m not breaking up with you, but I wouldn’t blame you if you broke up with me.”

Bucky watches as Steve attempts to dig himself out of this hole. He would never admit it out loud but it was almost fun watching Steve, who is usually much more put together, scrabbling to course correct especially since Bucky has been wrong footed so many times since their relationship began. However, watching Steve has crossed over from mildly amusing to just plain painful and so Bucky puts Steve out of his misery. Well, not completely.

“Steve,” Bucky speaks slowly and deliberately to avoid any misunderstanding. “You absolute fucking moron.”

Steve isn’t even upset by Bucky’s insults. Instead his brows draw together as if he can’t even see why Bucky’s insulted him which just proves his point.

“You punk! Is that really what you think of me?” Bucky’s voice is low, serious and Steve’s eyes widen once more. He may not understand what it was but he’s beginning to realize that maybe he’s said something he shouldn’t have.

“You really think that just because things are gonna get a little bit harder, I’m just gonna dip? After everything? I thought you’d know me better than that by now.”

Steve finally has the decency to look at least a little ashamed. But his eyes flash with anger as Bucky tries to push his way out of the kitchen and away from him. He grabs Bucky’s arm to stop him from getting any farther.

“A little bit harder? Bucky, this isn’t some problem that will go away in a few days. There are real dangers involved here and you’re crazy if you think that things will suddenly go back to normal. I’m giving you an out here.”

“An out?” Bucky sneers. “Well, thank you for so generously giving me permission to dump you, just what I’ve been waiting for.” Bucky wrenches his arm from Steve’s grasp, pissed that Steve is being so dense.

“Newsflash, Steve! Nothing is normal!” he yells. “It’s a fallacy. Things happen and you deal with them and then something else happens and you deal with that too. You like me enough to want to date me? That was hard at first but I think it’s working out pretty well. You’re an enhanced soldier from World War II? Okay, cool! My two best friends are secretly spies for an underground government organization? I’m still working on that one, but my point is that things happen and we adapt to them Steve! We don’t just disappear at the first sign of trouble!”

“I’m just trying to protect you!” Steve yells back. “You’re the only thing I have worth protecting!”

The words hit Bucky like a punch to gut. He’s still angry and hurt, but even as he stands there glaring at Steve from across the room, he can feel the anger seeping out of him, leaving him sad and tired.

They stand apart from each other, both breathing hard, thinking about the things they’ve just said to one another, words flying around them like weapons. Steve is standing stock still, head up, shoulders back, looking every bit the soldier ready for a fight. Bucky wonders if he even knows he’s doing it. As enamoured as Bucky was watching Steve fight even through the haze of fear, seeing Steve battle ready in his kitchen is not a sight he likes. Especially when it's because of him.

Steve is a stubborn bastard and Bucky, knowing this, is unwilling to engage in a battle of wills right now. And with Steve leaving tomorrow for who knows how long, Bucky doesn’t want this to be how their night ends, with words born from fear and anger and frustration.

With a sigh, Bucky takes a slow step closer to Steve. “Steve, I’m sorry.”

With those three words, Steve deflates like a balloon, all the fight disappearing. Bucky watches as soldier Steve melts back into his Steve, the one who doesn’t push away but holds close.

“Bucky,” Steve voice sounds choked. “I’m sorry, too.” He walks past Bucky and sits on the couch. _He must be so tired and he still has to go to D.C._ Bucky doesn’t doubt that Steve will manage just fine, will probably sleep on the plane, or train, or however they spirit him away before he is thrown headfirst to the sharks. But he shouldn’t have to and that still makes Bucky’s blood boil.

“For a long time, I had nothing worth living for. I just can’t wake up again and find everything changed again. I can’t wake up to you gone.”

“You won’t.” Bucky says fiercely. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The look Steve gives him is heartbreaking, hopeful and helpless all at once, like he wants nothing more than to believe Bucky but knowing better than to put hope in empty promises. Bucky wants to pull him close to shield him from everything and go back to yesterday when none of this was real.

“I’m sorry I tried to push you away. I shouldn’t have done that.” Steve says quietly. “I’m so scared, Bucky. Those guys attacked me today and all I was worried about was making sure that they didn’t get to you. I hoped that somehow you would get stuck in the crowd at the snow cone cart, that you wouldn’t come back, that somehow you’d run and gone home. But you didn’t.”

Heat rushes through Bucky as Steve looks right at him, more intensely than he’s ever been looked at. He’s acutely away that he is still standing across the room and decides that that is too far. Steve’s eyes follow him as he moves towards the couch. “You came back to find me and when I saw you standing there, I knew right then that I didn’t care what happened to me so long as you were safe.” He pauses, face slightly scrunched before it smooths out again. “I’d never had anything to lose before.” His voice is quiet, but full of wonder.

_“I joined the army because there was nothing left for me in Brooklyn. My ma was gone, the fight was getting worse, I could barely keep a job because I kept missing work because I was too busy getting beat up in the streets,” Steve had told him, late one night. Bucky’d had to work late, later than usual because of an event at the library and he’d called Steve on his walk home and asked for a distraction and Steve had just started talking about anything and everything, before eventually settling on his life before the war. “I figured I had everything to give since I had nothing left to lose.”_

Bucky reaches for Steve then, pulling him close. He doesn’t quite know what to say so he just holds onto Steve, maneuvering them both so that Bucky is laying on the couch, Steve laying on his chest. Bucky’s head won’t quiet down, too many thoughts swirling around.

Thoughts of today, of the past few months. He remembers before. Before he and Steve got together, before he’d finally taken a chance, pushed past the fear and trusted enough to let go of the assumptions and just be himself and not worry if it was enough. He remembers when Steve’s past had been a secret, larger than life, weighing him down, an anchor in unfamiliar waters.

And here on his lumpy couch, in the malstrom of thoughts and memories one stands strong and tall, a lighthouse to guide him home. Steve’s life was changed with a smile, but Bucky’s was changed with a text message. And Bucky knows with absolute certainty what he has to say.

“This is the first time I’ve done this,” he speaks slowly, each word carefully chosen, “so I don’t wanna say love just yet-” Steve’s head snaps up from where it’s been resting on Bucky’s chest, “but I’d like to be sure and that's not gonna happen if we just call it quits. Besides, we haven’t gotten to ride the train yet.” He offers Steve a half smile. “I want to take this ride with you, Steve, wherever it takes us.”

Bucky takes a breath to steady himself before he continues. “Because you helped me, too. I was living, but I wasn’t really happy. I was lonely and there was always a worry of ‘I’m going to be alone forever’ and a lot of it was me stopping myself and living in fear. But I took the first step because of you, because you were brave enough to do what I never would have. You’re always the brave one.” He says, one hand coming up to gently cup Steve’s face, thumb rubbing lightly over his cheekbone. “It's my turn to be brave. I already told you, I’m with you to the end of the line.”

Bucky hasn’t seen Steve cry, but the expression on his face comes damn close. His eyes are shimmering and for all of the secrets they’ve shared between them, his face has never been as open and honest as it is right now, or maybe Bucky’s just never been face to face with it before, never stared head on into the heart of this amazing man who has given so much of himself to the world and gotten so little in return. He’s given Bucky so much and he’s gonna make sure that he spends everyday returning the favor.

“Bucky,” Steve chokes out, voice thick with emotion.

“Shh,” Bucky soothes. “I know, Steve. It’s okay.” He gently guides his head back onto his chest. Steve’s struggling to holding himself together now, if the tiny hitches in Steve’s breath are anything to go by. Bucky starts rubbing slow circles on his back.

“But just so we’re clear,” Bucky says a minute later, after Steve has a chance to calm down, “there is a difference between brave and stupid. Fighting those assholes at the park today, that was brave. You attempting to preemptively break up with me on the off chance that I might have maybe in the future wanted to break up with you? That was fucking stupid. Got it?” He knocks his knuckles lightly on Steve’s head.

Steve burrows in just that much closer, but manages to mumble, “Yeah, I got it,” into Bucky’s chest.

“Yeah?” Bucky says, with just a hint of a smirk. “I hope so cause if I remember correctly my history books mentioned something about jumping on a grenade?”

“I thought people were gonna die!” Steve protest indignantly, head lifting just a little.

“I know you did,” he says, rolling his eyes fondly. Because _of course_ Steve wouldn’t have considered himself as a part of those ‘people’. “It was still self-sacrificing and stupid.”

Steve says nothing in return but Bucky can tell he’s not mad, can only hope that Steve hears what he’s trying to say. _Be smart, stay safe, come back to me._

“I just realized that this is kinda like our first date, the real one. Both of us on the couch after one of us messed things up.” Bucky says, chuckling. “Except you were comforting me and we were on your couch, not mine.” He wiggles a little under Steve. “But this way is good, too.”

They’ve come so far since then. If someone had told Bucky two years ago that one day he’d be in a relationship, he’d have thought they were crazy. Hell, if someone had told him a year ago that not only would he be in a relationship, but it would be with Steve and by the way, he’s Captain America? He would have laughed right in their face.

But it happened and he’s here now, well on his way to being in love with Steve, somewhere that he never really believed he’d be. And even after everything that’s happened today, he wouldn’t change any of it.

Steve still has to go to DC, and Bucky has to face Nat and Clint again eventually, and things are gonna change for the both of them but that can all wait until tomorrow. They’ll deal with it all the same way they’ve dealt with everything else.

 _Together_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all there is folks! 
> 
> First, a HUGE thank you to the lovely Mystrana for making my first Big Bang experience a good one by not only creating the wonderful art for this fic but also for offering to beta all while working on a BB fic of her own. Thanks for sticking with me while I scrambled to make this into something coherent. I don't know how you do it.
> 
> The idea for this fic came from a meme (as all good ideas do, obviously) and then slowly morphed into this massive thing that I've somehow created. It's the longest thing I've ever written and I was honestly worried about meeting the 15k word limit for the bang. 
> 
> I hope that you all enjoy this absurd story I've created. I've put a lot more of myself into this than I really expected to - Bucky is essentially just me, lol - and so if you've connected with any part of this, as an ace-spec person or otherwise, than I am so so glad because I know how hard it is to find good representation. I've read fics that have just blown me away with much I've related to them and if you've felt that even a little bit, then it was all worth it. 
> 
> Thanks for coming on this ride with me and drop me a comment if you liked it! I'm also on [ tumblr](http://absolutely-xantastic.tumblr.com/). It's mostly a hot mess but feel free to holla at me over there if you want.


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